Luyện nghe bài hát Stacey Grove

Stacey Grove a roaming prophet of mine,
Hat of wine.
Stacey Grove he's a catcher of skies,
of eyes, so no lies.

Dungaree dome is decked like a pagan temple to
He drinks juice.

his feet by the furnace of peat,
He roars at the boars who sleep at his feet.

Antelope his beard skylark red
Is 'neath the good of his summer sun hood.
And now the gate of his evening is late
He on a log picking ticks off the back of his dog.

Oh he's a cat