🎵 Luyện Nghe Bài Hát: Hands Of Gold - Peter Hollens

 He rode through the streets of the 
  from his hill on high
 O'  the winds and the steps and the cobble
 He rode  woman's sigh
 For she was his  treasure
 She  his shame and his bliss
 And a chain and a  are nothing
  to a woman's kiss
 
  a hands of gold are always cold
 But a woman's hands are 
 For a hands of  are always cold
 But a  hands are warm
 
 And there he stood with sword in 
  last of Darry's ten
 And red the grass beneath  feet
  red his banners bright
 And red the glow of  sun
 That bathed  in its light
 "Come on, come on" the great  called
 "My sword is  still"
 
  with a cry of savage rage
 They swarmed across  rill
 And with a cry of savage 
 They  across the rill
 
  rode through the streets of the city
  from his hill on high
 O' er the winds and  steps and the cobble
 He rode  woman's sigh
 For  was his secret treasure
 She was  shame and his bliss
  a chain and a keep are nothing
 Compared to a  kiss
 
 For  hands of gold are always cold
 But a woman's hands  warm
  a hands of gold are always cold
 But a woman's hands are 
  a hands of gold are always cold
 But a woman's hands  warm
 For a  of gold are always cold
 But a woman's hands  warm