Luyện nghe bài hát Heavy Horses

Iron-clad, feather-feet the dust
On day, towards evening
Sweat embossed veins standing to the plough
on a deep chest, seasoning

Last of the at an honest days toil
Turning the sod under
Flint at the fetlock, the bone
Flies at the plunder

The Suffolk, the Clydesdale, the vie
the shire on his feathers, floating
Hauling soft timber the dusk
To bed on a warm straw

Heavy move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding, slipping and free
And now youre down to the few and no work to do
The on its way

Let me find you a filly for your proud seeds
To keep the old line
And well stand you at the back of the woods
the young trees growing

To hide you eyes that mock at your girth
Youre eighteen hands at the
And one day when the oil have all dripped dry
And the nights are to draw colder

Theyll beg for strength, your gentle power
Your noble and your bearing
And youll strain once to the sound of the gulls
In the of the deep plough, sharing

Heavy horses the land under me
Behind the plough gliding, slipping and free
And now youre down to the few and no work to do
The on its way

Standing like on the brow of the hill
Up into the wind facing
In stiff battle harness, to the world
Against the low sun

Bring me a wheel of oaken
A rein of polished
A heavy and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy

Bring a for the evening
brass to flash the dawn
Across these acres
Like dew on a carpet

In these towns, folk lie sleeping
As the heavy thunder by
So the dying city
With the living cry

At once the old hands
Bring and wisp and curry comb
to the sound of all the
Heavy horses coming

Iron-clad, pounding the dust
On day, towards evening
Sweat embossed veins proud to the plough
Salt on a chest, seasoning

Bring me a of oaken woods
A rein of leather
A heavy horse and the sky
heavy weather

Heavy move the land under me
the plough gliding, slipping and sliding free
And now down to the few and theres no work to do
The on its way

Oh, heavy move the land under me
Behind the gliding, slipping and sliding free
And now youre down to the few and theres no to do
The on its way

Oh, heavy horses the land under me
Behind the plough gliding, slipping and free
And now youre down to the few and theres no to do
The on its way

Now heavy move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding, slipping and free