Luyện nghe bài hát Old Spur Line

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

Two railroads in a yellow wildwood.
It's raining meat, poppin' dents in hood.
a mortal coil of blackjack vines,
Blurred around the hangs a red-soaked sky.
Dryrotted, ties
Suckin' up the muck in the trenches the side.
Don't ye go pokin' down crooked Old Spur Line.
ye not down the dirty rotten Old Spur Line.

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

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

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