Luyện nghe bài hát Changi Banjo

Well the old man died in the summer when the 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 the curlew calling and he just put down his hen.

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

play the Changi bango made of sin,
The bridge piece was the toilet from off his slouch hat brim,
Had a broomstick neck and fails to for strings,
To the memory of is mates, the Changi banjo rings.

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

He'll his Changi banjo made 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.

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

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