Luyện nghe bài hát Any Old Irony?

At the of a juddering caravan,
galloping down a dirt-track.
Six furtive figures, as Caliban;
Smuggling to the land of the claque.

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

Without trepidation I in laudation;
Vocal salute to all tinkers.
Vagabond joined in congregation.
United free-thinkers cry the bryony;

"Any old irony?!"

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

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

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

The cat on the fiddle, Miss Georgie
Keeping it reeling with her electric.
Stuck in the middle I'll 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 like
If hands us lemons; we'll make lemonade.