Luyện nghe bài hát Heavy Horses

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

Last of the line at an honest days
the deep sod under
Flint at the fetlock, the bone
at the nostrils plunder

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

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

Let me find you a for your proud stallion seeds
To keep the old going
And well stand you abreast at the of the woods
the young trees growing

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

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

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

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

Bring me a wheel of woods
A rein of leather
A heavy horse and a sky
Brewing weather

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

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

At the old hands quicken
Bring pick and wisp and comb
Thrill to the of all the
Heavy coming home

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

me a wheel of oaken woods
A of polished leather
A heavy horse and the sky
Brewing weather

Heavy horses move the land 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 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

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

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