Luyện nghe bài hát White Boots Marching in a Yellow Land

The playing poker in the cockpit of the plane
The casualties are rising the dropping of rain
And the mountain of will fall before a man
When white boots marching in a yellow land

It's in the ashes of the village towns we burn
It's in the empty bed of the fathers unreturned
And the chocolate in the children's eyes will never
When white boots marching in a yellow land

Red, blow the bugles of the
The morning has arrived, you be gone
And the lost patrol their chartered souls
cold whores following tired armies

Train them well, the men who will be fighting by side
And never turn your if the battle turns the tide
For the of a civil war are louder than commands
When you're boots marching in a yellow land

Blow them from the forest and burn them from your
Tie hands behind their back and question through the night
But the firing squad is ready, they'll be spitting where they stand
At the white boots marching in a yellow

Red, the bugles of the dawn
The morning has arrived, you be gone
And the lost patrol their chartered souls
cold whores following tired armies

The comic and the queen are dancing on the stage
Raw recruits are lining up like in a cage
We're fighting in a war, we lost the war began
We're the white marching in a yellow land

And the lost patrol chase their chartered
Like cold following tired armies