Luyện nghe bài hát Old Spur Line

The in the details,
And your reverend's retail.
Your soul's alone in this of stone, you'll find
So can you do,
You wery Wandering
Well, every road leads to the South for ya this time.
Yeah, they all home.
But not the ramshackle tracks down Brigde Road.
Don't go pokin' down that Old Spur Line
Yeah, tread ye not the dirty rotten Old Spur Line.

Two railroads diverged in a wildwood.
It's raining meat, poppin' in your hood.
a mortal coil of blackjack vines,
Blurred around the egdes hangs a sky.
Dryrotted, ties
Suckin' up the in the trenches down the side.
ye go pokin' down that crooked Old Spur Line.
Tread ye not down the rotten Old Spur Line.

Hear the greasy, grandma
on a bowesaw.
She says "Do as thou shall be whole of my law."
Well, she her eyes.
And she her tees.
And she pokin' with a stick, when you in the breese.
Well, ya what she said.
Ya got rocks in head?
And hear turned to f#DEAD.
Don't go pokin' down the crooked Old Line.

See po' 'Rithmethic, the dog run.
He puts down and he carries the one.
And Deacon Snitch paintin' pants on the
Of the little naked on a barbeque sign.
People right in the head down there.
Do a quick face for ye best beware.
Tread ye not the crooked Old Spur Line.

Trek down the and it's at your own peril.
The are all fallow and the beasts are all feral.
Dead cows in the boughs of the Oak trees,
Left there to rot the water recedes.
No is made and the buildings tumble down.
And the only thing that grows are the all around.
Tread ye not down the dirty Old Spur Line.