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, by the road
I him for a truck driver by the clothes he wore

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

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

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

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

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