Luyện nghe bài hát The Marines Have Landed On The Shores Of Santo Domingo

Phil
And the crabs are crazy, scuttle back and forth, the sand is burning
And the fish take and scatter from the sight, their courses turning
As the seagulls rest on the cannon nest, the sea is churning.
The marines landed on the shores of Santo Domingo.
The sweat, they're pausing at their nets, the day's a-burning
As the warships sway and thunder in the bay, the morning.
But the boy on the shore is throwing pebbles no more, he a-warning
That the the marines landed on the shores of Santo Domingo.
The are still, there's silence in the hills, the town is sleeping
And the farmers yawn in the grey dawn, the fields they're keeping
As the troops land and step into the sand, the flags are weaving.
The marines have landed on the of Santo Domingo.
The unsmiling sun is shining down the singing soldiers
In the dust whirl they whistle at the girls, they're getting bolder
The old women sigh, think of memories by, they shrug their shoulders.
The have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo.
Ready for the tricks, their are fixed, now they are rolling
And the tanks tracks past the trembling shacks where fear's unfolding
All the young wives afraid, turn their backs to the parade with they're holding
The marines landed on the shores of Santo Domingo
A cracks the sound, the army hit the ground, the sniper's callin'
So they open their guns, a thousand to one, no in stalling
He at his head and totters on the edge, look now he's falling
The marines landed on the shores of Santo Domingo
In the red plaza square, the crowds come to stare, the is leaning
And the eyes of the dead are turning every head to the widows
But the soldiers make a bid, giving candy to the kids, their teeth are
The marines have landed on the shores of Santo
Up and down the coast, the drink a toast, the wheel is spinning
And the cowards and the whores are peeking the doors to see who's winning
But the traitors will pretend that it's getting near the end, it's beginning
The marines have landed on the shores of Santo
And the crabs are crazy, scuttle back and forth, the sand is burning
And the fish take flight and scatter from the sight, their turning
As the rest on the cold cannon nest, the sea is churning
The have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo