Luyện nghe bài hát Heavy Horses

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

of the line at an honest days toil
Turning the deep sod
Flint at the fetlock, chasing the
Flies at the nostrils

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

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

Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion
To keep the old line
And well stand you abreast at the of the woods
Behind the young growing

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

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

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

like tanks on the brow of the hill
Up into the cold wind
In battle harness, chained to the world
Against the low sun

Bring me a wheel of oaken
A of polished leather
A horse and a tumbling sky
heavy weather

Bring a for the evening
Clean brass to flash the
Across these glistening
dew on a carpet lawn

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

At once the old hands
Bring pick and wisp and curry
to the sound of all the
Heavy coming home

Iron-clad, feather-feet pounding the
On Octobers day, towards
Sweat embossed standing proud to the plough
Salt on a chest, seasoning

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

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

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

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

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