Luyện nghe bài hát Tombstone Blues

The sweet pretty are in bed now, of course
The fathers, they're trying to endorse
The of Paul Revere's horse
But the town has no need to be

The ghost of Starr, she hands down her wits
To the nun, she violently knits
A bald wig for the Ripper, who sits
At the of the Chamber of Commerce

Mama's in the factory, she got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen with the tombstone

The hysterical bride in the penny
Screaming, she moans, "I've been made"
Then out for the doctor, who pulls down the shade
And says, "My advice is to not let the in"

Now, the medicine man comes and he inside
He walks with a swagger and he to the bride
"Stop all this weeping, your pride
You not die, it's not poison"

in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, he's for food
I'm in the kitchen with the tombstone

Well, the Baptist, after torturing a thief
up at his hero, the Commander-in-Chief
Saying, "Tell me, great hero, but make it brief
Is a hole for me to get sick in?"

The Commander-in-Chief him while chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all those who would and cry"
And, dropping a barbell, he to the sky
Saying, "The not yellow, it's chicken"

Mama's in the factory, she got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, he's for food
I'm in the with the tombstone blues

The king of the Philistines, his to save
Puts jawbones on their tombstones and flatters their
Puts the pipers in prison and fattens the slaves
Then sends out to the jungle

Gypsy Davey with a blowtorch, he out their camps
With his faithful Pedro behind him, he tramps
With a fantastic collection of
To win and influence his uncle

in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for
I'm in with the tombstone blues

The geometry of innocence, flesh on the
Causes Galileo's math book to get
At Delilah, who's worthlessly alone
But the on her cheeks are from laughter

I wish I give Brother Bill his great thrill
I set him in chains at the top of the hill
send out for some pillars and Cecil B. DeMille
He could die happily after

Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no
Daddy's in the alley, he's for food
I'm in the kitchen with the blues

Where Ma Rainey and Beethoven once unwrapped their
Tuba players now rehearse around the
And the National Bank at a profit sells road for the soul
To the old home and the college

Now, I wish I write you a melody so plain
That could hold you, dear lady, from going
That ease you and cool you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless

in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, he's for food
I'm in the with the tombstone blues, oh right