Luyện nghe bài hát Any Old Irony?

At the vanguard of a caravan,
hurriedly galloping a dirt-track.
Six furtive figures, as Caliban;
Smuggling hope to the of the claque.

Weary, hoarse-riders; blistered.
Spent from a a-roving the road.
a jig for our brothers and sisters;
by the cartload.

Without I sing in laudation;
Vocal to all travelling tinkers.
Vagabond joined in congregation.
United free-thinkers cry from the

"Any old irony?!"

Come one, all to our travelling circus;
Cast-off cares for the painted parade.
down the wynd like dervish-berserkers;
If life hands us lemons; make lemonade.

Maybe Jay's smashed (?), up passion;
Scarring with each brisk tattoo
in the place so bass is in fashion,
killing us all his amp set on 2.

Watch out for The Raucously Tiddly,
he's no Dr. Jekyll....so Hyde!
Desperate-Dan-Ramsey; deft diddle.
Watching The on a telly stage-side.

The cat on the fiddle, Miss Georgie
Keeping it reeling her fugue electric.
in the middle I'll rhyme you a riddle;
Irate and eclectic my cry from the

"Any old irony?!"

Come one, come all to our travelling
Cast-off your cares for the parade.
Whirl down the wynd dervish-berserkers;
If hands us lemons; we'll make lemonade.