Luyện nghe bài hát The Shooting of Dan McGrew

A of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon;
The kid that the music-box was hitting a jag-time tune;
Back of the bar, in a game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew,
And his luck was his light-o'-love, the lady that's known as Lou.

When out of the night, which was below, and into the din and the glare,
There stumbled a miner from the creeks, dog-dirty, and loaded for bear.
He looked like a man a foot in the grave and scarcely the strength of a louse,
Yet he tilted a of dust on the bar, and he called for drinks for the house.
There was none could place the stranger's face, though we searched ourselves for a
But we drank his health, and the last to drink was Dan McGrew.

There's men that somehow just grip your eyes, and hold hard like a spell;
And was he, and he looked to me like a man who had lived in hell;
a face most hair, and the dreary stare of a dog whose day is done,
As he watered the green stuff in his glass, and the fell one by one.
I got to figgering who he was, and wondering what he'd do,
And I turned my head -- and there him was the lady that's known as Lou.

His eyes went rubbering round the room, and he in a kind of daze,
Till at that old piano fell in the way of his wandering gaze.
The rag-time kid was having a drink; there was no one on the stool,
So the stumbles across the room, and flops down there like a fool.
In a buckskin shirt that was glazed dirt he sat, and I saw him sway;
Then he the keys with his talon hands -- my God! but that man could play.

Were you out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear,
And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a you most could HEAR;
With only the of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold,
A half-dead thing in a stark, dead world, mad for the muck called gold;
While high overhead, green, yellow and red, the North Lights swept in --
Then you've a what the music meant . . . hunger and night and the stars.

And hunger not of the kind, that's banished with bacon and beans,
But the gnawing hunger of lonely men for a home and all that it
For a fireside far from the cares that are, four and a roof above;
But oh! so of cosy joy, and crowned with a woman's love --
A woman dearer than all the world, and true as Heaven is --
(God! how ghastly she looks through her rouge, -- the lady known as Lou.)

Then on a sudden the music changed, so that you scarce could hear;
But you that your life had been looted clean of all that it once held dear;
That someone had stolen the woman you that her love was a devil's lie;
That your guts were gone, and the best for you was to crawl and die.
'Twas the crowning cry of a despair, and it thrilled you through and through --
"I guess I'll make it a spread misere," said Dan McGrew.

The music almost died . . . then it burst like a pent-up flood;
And it seemed to say, "Repay, repay," and my eyes blind with blood.
The thought came back of an ancient wrong, and it stung a frozen lash,
And the lust awoke to kill, to kill . . . the music stopped with a crash,
And the turned, and his eyes they burned in a most peculiar way;

In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him
Then his lips went in in a of grin, and he spoke, and his voice was calm,
And "Boys," he, "you don't know me, and none of you care a damn;
But I want to state, and my are straight, and I'll bet my poke they're true,
That one of you is a hound of hell . . . and one is Dan McGrew."

Then I ducked my head, and the lights went out, and two blazed in the dark,
And a woman screamed, and the lights went up, and two men lay and stark.
Pitched on his head, and pumped full of lead, was Dan McGrew,
the man from the creeks lay clutched to the breast of the lady that's known as Lou.

These are the simple of the case, and I guess I ought to know.
They say that the was crazed with "hooch", and I'm not denying it's so.
I'm not so wise as the guys, but strictly between us two --
The woman that kissed him and -- his poke -- was the lady that's known as Lou.