Luyện nghe bài hát The Dying Truck Driver

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

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

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

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

Then Lefty reached down in his bag, saying, You dyin', friend
Just take a drink of whiskey now, you'll alright again
All through the we lingered there and passed that bottle round
We hauled at sunrise, lit out for Frisco town

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