Luyện nghe bài hát Brunswick

(Thomas)
In the summer all the old men, they sit on front porches,
While the women comb their hair, shell their
And wonder they've missed.
And the forlorn scan the streets
For wayward dogs, fading torches.
It's no amazing sight, it's something I miss.
I hear the trucks
as they their gears going through the lanes,
And all folk who get stuck in their way
And the forklift starting up
At 7am of a weekday
How I cursed then, now I see things another way.
And if I see through a hallowed gaze,
Well is it such a
I ain't been to Brunswick for a long long time.
There was a kind you could get
the man who ran the milk bar,
And a one from the old bloke
Who lived the road, and though
The footpaths stank the refuse
Of Alsatians,
The air was rife Tip Top Bread,
The baker's load.
And if I see things a hallowed gaze,
Well is it a crime?
I ain't been to Brunswick for a long long time.
And there's a I think of,
when I've been drinking,
And in the of my glass,
I see a life missed,
Of summer walks and trained dogs
And plenty of for thinking.
So just don't bother asking why the hell I'm pissed.
But if I see through a hallowed gaze,
is it such a crime?
When I been to Brunswick,
No I ain't to Brunswick,
I ain't been nowhere near it for a long time.