Luyện nghe bài hát Spirit Of The Land

The rivers are dry across the and the farmers fields have turned to sand
'Cause the rain hasn't come for two years on three
The topsoil's gone with the hot north wind, the crops won't and rust set in
And the cruel south of winter brought no relief

And the old men in the public bar talk of and droughts before
And as the night on the conversations die
But the battlers don't give up, written on their hands
And in their eye-eye-eye-eye-eyes, and the spirit of the land

And on Saturday night in the Hotel, Hank the Dutchman plays guitar
He sings and western favourites and requests
It used to be his job, a bit of a laugh for a couple of bob
Now it's all got 'cause his crops all died from thirst

Then he spent his on cattle and sheep, he got some credit, got in too deep
But stock graze on pastures turned to salt
And then he tried to get work as a man selling Rawleighs products from the back of his van
But the cockies all shop in town where things are

And the old men in the public bar talk of and droughts before
And as the goes on the conversations die
But the battlers don't give up, written on their hands
And in their eye-eye-eye-eye-eyes, and the of the land survives

The all rundown, the roofs rusted and the paint's peelin'
The playground's just a dustbowl, not a spot of
The kids still their footballs sending dust clouds to the sun
And it's good to the drought can't spoil the fun

And in the cricketers lounge late at night where the cockies talk and the fight
And their wives shandies 'cause they'll be dri