Luyện nghe bài hát The Heart Of The Appaloosa

From the land of shooting waters to the of the Coeur d'Alene
Thimbleberries in the forest, elk grazing on the
The People of the Coyote made camp along the streams
Of the Wallowa Valley when fences had no name.
And they 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 wore the spotted coat was born with matchless speed.

Thunder in the Mountains
Lead the People the Great Divide
There's blood on the snow in the hills of
But the of the Appaloosa never died.
In the winter came the crowned ones frozen in the cold
Bringing firearms and spyglasses and a book saves the soul
The people gave them welcome, nursed them till their returned
And studied the 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 of the Clearwater gold glittered in the pan
And the would come 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 condemn us to a wasteland of barren soil and
We shall fight them if we must, but we will find home."
They into the Bitterroot, an army at their heels
fought at White Bird Canyon, they fought at Misery Hill
Till the colonel saw his strategy and sent the down
To the Appaloosa wherever it be found.

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

They were sent to Oklahoma, malaria ran
But more of broken hearts far from the land 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 without warning from a dull domestic herd
A spotted horse of spirit wondrous emerge
it is and fearless and nimble on a hill
Listening for thunder, the living still.