Luyện nghe bài hát The Frozen Four Hundred Pound Fair To Middlin' Cotton Picker

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

I left the field one evening, my fingers so and sore
From fair to cotton, three hundred pounds or more
Jim was still pickin' straddle in the row
The sun began to sinkin' and the began to blow

He was to get four hundred, a draggin' a twelve foot sack
I hollered out, "Jim, weight it" but I only saw his back
So I on home to supper and I gathered around my kin
I was of Jim out there pickin', with winter settin' in

Next morning the air was freezin', the snow was feet deep
I jerked on my long red handles and I my kids asleep
I got myself a shovel and to where I seen Jim go
And commenced to a for him at the other end of his row

I his body frozen and I took him in to thaw
I in his sack and I weighed it and I added Jim's marks that I saw
The total was over four hundred so he'd picked than he'd bet
Of to middlin' cotton, but Jim ain't thawed out yet