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

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