Luyện nghe bài hát The Heart Of The Appaloosa

From the land of shooting waters to the peaks of the d'Alene
in the forest, elk grazing on the plain
The People of the Coyote made their camp along the
Of the green Wallowa Valley fences had no name.
And bred a strain of horses, the treasure of the tribe
Who could toe-dance on a or gallop up a mountainside
Who could haul the hunter's burden, a buffalo stampede
The horse that the spotted coat was born with matchless speed.

Thunder Rolling in the
the People across the Great Divide
There's blood on the snow in the hills of
But the heart of the never died.
In the winter came the crowned ones frozen in the cold
Bringing firearms and spyglasses and a book saves the soul
The gave them welcome, nursed them till their strenght returned
And the talking paper, its mysteries to learn.
In the shadow of the mission sprang up farms and towns
The plain was lined with fences, the plow split the ground
In the shallows of the Clearwater gold in the pan
And the word come from Washington: remove the Indian.

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

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

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