Luyện nghe bài hát Cemetry Gates

A dreaded day
So I meet you at the gates
Keats and Yeats are on your
A sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetry
and Yeats are on your side
While Wilde is on

So we go and we gravely read the stones
All those people, all lives
Where are now?
With loves, and
And passions just mine
They born
And then lived
And then they
It so unfair
I to cry

You say : "'Ere thrice the sun done to the dawn"
And you claim these words as own
But read well, and I've heard them said
A hundred (maybe less, maybe more)
If you must write
The words you use be your own
Don't or take "on loan"
'Cause there's someone, somewhere
a big nose, who knows
And who trips you up and
you fall
Who'll you up and laugh
you fall

You say : "'Ere long do does did"
Words which could only be own
And then produce the
From was ripped
(Some whore, 1804)

A dreaded day
So go where we're happy
And I meet you at the cemetry
Oh, Keats and Yeats are on your
A dreaded day
So go where we're wanted
And I meet you at the cemetry
Keats and Yeats are on your
But you
'Cause weird Wilde is on mine

Sure!