Luyện nghe bài hát The Heart Of The Appaloosa

From the land of waters to the peaks of the Coeur d'Alene
Thimbleberries in the forest, elk on the plain
The of the Coyote made their camp along the streams
Of the green Wallowa Valley when had no name.
And they bred a strain of horses, the treasure of the
Who toe-dance on a ridge or gallop up a mountainside
Who could the hunter's burden, turn a buffalo stampede
The horse that wore the spotted coat was with matchless speed.

Thunder Rolling in the
Lead the People the Great Divide
There's blood on the snow in the of Idaho
But the heart of the never died.
In the winter came the crowned ones near frozen in the
Bringing firearms and spyglasses and a book that saves the
The people gave welcome, nursed them till their strenght returned
And studied the talking paper, its to learn.
In the of the mission sprang up farms and squatter towns
The plain was with fences, the plow blade split the ground
In the shallows of the gold glittered in the pan
And the word would from Washington: remove the Indian.

The chief spoke to the People in his anger and his
"I am no more Joseph. Rolling Thunder is my name.
They us to a wasteland of barren soil and stone
We shall fight them if we must, but we will find home."
fled into the Bitterroot, an army at their heels
They fought at Bird Canyon, they fought at Misery Hill
Till the colonel saw his strategy and sent the down
To kill the Appaloosa it be found.

Twelve miles retreating, three times over the Divide
The horse only safety, their only ally
Three thousand perishod with the tribe
The people and the horses dying by side.
Rolling in the Mountains said, "my heart is sick and sad.
Our children now are freezing. The old are dead.
The take our spirit. Our wounds are deep and sore.
From where the sun now I shal fight no more."

They were sent to Oklahoma, ran rife
But more died of broken hearts far from the that gave them life
And the man once called Joseph at was heard to say
"We given up our horses. They have gone away."
But sometimes without warning from a domestic herd
A spotted horse of spirit will emerge
it is and fearless and nimble on a hill
Listening for thunder, the living still.