Luyện nghe bài hát Changi Banjo

Well the old man died in the when the grass was dry and brown,
The long hard road he'd travelled had reached the end,
He was out on the writing letters to his goldfish,
When he heard the curlew calling and he just put his hen.

Well he did two years in Changi in the big door,
He'd to hell and back again somehow came though it all,
His most prized possession was the that he smashed,
As he made it all around him he his comrades ball.

He'd play the bango made of sin,
The bridge piece was the Rising from off his slouch hat brim,
Had a broomstick and fails to pick for strings,
To the of is fallen mates, the Changi banjo rings.

When he came ashore in Sydney like a ghost of and potatoes,
recognised the man behind the crazy face,
No-one knows the sorrows, only he could
Of how he's taking one last journey to rest his old mates.

He'll his Changi banjo made of tin,
The bridge piece was the Sun from off his slouch hat brim,
Had a neck and nails to pick his strings,
To the memory of is mates, the Changi banjo rings.

He'll play his banjo made of tin,
The bridge piece was the Sun from off his slouch hat brim,
Had a broomstick neck and to pick his strings,
To the of is fallen mates, the Changi banjo rings.

To the memory of is fallen mates, the banjo rings.