Luyện nghe bài hát East of Woodstock, West of Viet Nam

I slept through the Nineteen Sixties, I Dory Previn say
But me I caught me the great white bird, to the of Africay
Where I lost my adolescent heart, to the of a talking drum
Yeah, of Woodstock, West of Vietnam

And on the roads outside Oshogbo, Lord I fell down on my
There were female spirits in old mud huts, iron ringing up in the trees
And an eighty-year-old white priest, she juju all night long
Yeah, East of Woodstock, West of

Raise high the roof beams carpenter boy, yeah coming through the rye
In the cinema I saw the man on the moon, I laughed so I cried
It was somewhere in those seasons, that I learned to carve my song
Yeah, East of Woodstock, of Vietnam

Oh Africa, Africa, you lay heavy on my breast
You old cradle of civilization, of darkness blood and death
Though we had to play you running scared, the crocodile ate the sun
Yeah, East of Woodstock, West of

I think its going to rain tonight, I can smell it coming off the sea
As I sit reading old Graham Greene I taste Africa on every page
I close my eyes and see those red clay roads, and its sundown and boys Im gone
Yeah, East of Woodstock, of Vietnam

Raise high the roof beams carpenter boy, yeah were through the rye
It was a moveable of war and memory, a dark old lullaby
It was the smoke of a camp fires, it was the wrong end of a gun,
Yeah, East of Woodstock, of Vietnam.

Yeah, of Woodstock, West of Vietnam