Luyện nghe bài hát Heavy Horses

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

Last of the line at an honest toil
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 straw coating

horses move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding, slipping and sliding
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 stallion
To keep the old going
And well you abreast at the back of the woods
Behind the young trees

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

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

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

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

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

Bring a for the evening
Clean brass to the dawn
Across these glistening
Like dew on a carpet

In these towns, folk lie sleeping
As the heavy horses by
So wake the city
the living horsemans cry

At the old hands quicken
Bring pick and and curry comb
to the sound of all the
Heavy horses coming

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

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

Heavy horses move the 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

Oh, horses 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 sliding
And now down to the few and theres no work to do
The on its way

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