Luyện nghe bài hát Heavy Horses

Iron-clad, feather-feet the dust
On Octobers day, evening
embossed veins standing proud to the plough
Salt on a deep chest,

Last of the line at an honest days
Turning the deep sod
at the fetlock, chasing the bone
Flies at the nostrils

The Suffolk, the Clydesdale, the vie
With the on his feathers, floating
soft timber into the dusk
To bed on a warm coating

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

Let me find you a filly for your proud seeds
To keep the old going
And well you abreast at the back of the woods
Behind the young trees

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

Theyll beg for strength, your gentle power
noble grace and your bearing
And youll once again to the sound of the gulls
In the wake of the plough, sharing

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

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

me a wheel of oaken woods
A rein of leather
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 horses thunder by
So the dying city
the living horsemans cry

At once the old hands
Bring pick and wisp and comb
Thrill to the of all the
Heavy horses coming

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

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

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

Now horses move the land under me
the plough gliding, slipping and sliding free