Luyện nghe bài hát The Dying Truck Driver

Well, we our way up 99 in the springtime of the year
The San was all in bloom, and songbirds everywhere
We chanced upon a workingman, lying by the
I him for a truck driver by the clothes he wore

We drew some to him then, inquirin' of his name
Well, here's little angels come down for to carry me home
Then, bear me up to Jesus now, my Savior I see
You ain't no angels, boys, but that's alright by me

Lefty, stepping forward, addressed the dyin' man
Saying, no angels, brother, but we'll do all we can
What cowards set upon you, sir, and dealt the fatal
We'll pull out every workingman here to Ohio

It was no vigilante gang, nor ranch-boss this time
But the meatloaf special I had on Highway 99
A comely waitress me there, and she cooled me with her fan
But meatloaf has struck down this old truck drivin' man

Then reached down in his bag, saying, You ain't dyin', friend
Just take a of whiskey now, you'll feel alright again
All through the night we lingered there and passed bottle round
We aboard at sunrise, lit out for Frisco town

Now, the workingman must be warned whenever headlines scream
"Your rights yield, the bombs must fall to save democracy"
The flag they fly, their of lies served up at votin' time
Like poison under the on Highway 99