Luyện nghe bài hát Grande

When the moon a trail down the pine-bearded hills
And a hollers to the early morn
And the starlings return to the old sugar
Stealing their corn from the grower's

Oh, I'll be no

When we've our hands in the bone-white clay
And shaken the dust from every boot and spur
We have counted our in planks and rails
We have kept our spirits in the dancing

Oh, I'll be no

When a cold corner stage in the back of the
Holds a house band carrying an orphan
I would swing, I would sway, I would pull my
To the sad playing on the overheads

Oh, I'll be no
Oh, I'll be no

Still to day
I can hear the whistle
I can the sage burn
I may be as old and as a pine
But I am just as wild as the

a ribbon is curved round the blue-shadowed hills
And the hot steel is down the Union Line
Whip-thin, hickory-black,
Our sad-faced chatter into rhythm and

Oh, I'll be no
Oh, be no more