Luyện nghe bài hát Changi Banjo

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

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

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

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

play his Changi banjo made of tin,
The bridge was the Rising Sun from off his slouch hat brim,
Had a broomstick neck and nails to his strings,
To the memory of is fallen mates, the Changi rings.

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

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