Luyện nghe bài hát The Dying Truck Driver

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

We drew some nearer to him then, of his name
Well, here's three angels come down for to carry me home
Then, me up to Jesus now, my Savior I shall see
You no regular 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 the fatal blow?
We'll pull out every from here to Ohio

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

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

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