Luyện nghe bài hát Clementine

I should to consider the folk song, and expand briefly on a theory I have held for some time, to the effect that the reason most folk songs are so atrocious is that they were written by the
Le. if professional songwriters had written them instead, things might have turned out considerably differently. for example, consider the old favorite, which, I'm sure, you're all familiar
Ot;clementine", you

In a cavern, in a canyon,
dadadada...
A song with no recognizable merit whatsoever, and imagine what might have happened if, for example, cole porter had writing this song. the first verse might have come out like this:

In a cavern, in a canyon,
for a mine,
Far away the boom-boom-boom of the city
She was so pretty, a pity, clementine.

Oh clementine, you tell from the howls of me
love of mine calls to you from the bowels of me.
Are you discerning the
Of churning, burning, yearning for you-oo-oo... ah-ah...
Well, supposing at this that mozart (or one of that crowd) had tried writing a verse, the next one might have come out as a baritone aria from an italian opera, somewhat along these lines:

Era legera e come un
E suo shoes nine,
Herring bo-ho-ho-hoxes to-ho-ho-hopses,
Sandalae per si, per clementina si,
Per clementina sandalae, per sandalae, per clementine.
Clehementina, clehementina, clehe-he-mentina...

boxes senza topses sandalae per clementina,
Herring senza topses sandalae per clementina,
Che sciagura clementina, che sciagura clementina, clementina, cara
Clementina-na-na-na-na-na-na-na!
Supposing at this rather dramatic juncture in the narrative, one of our modern "cool school" of composers had tried writing a verse, the next one have come out like this:

those ducklings to the water
Yeah brach! doo doo uh ah!
morning like 9am
Ooh pah! de do de do do do, da!
Got up on a splinter, got a-hung up on a splinter
ge mop! huh huh!
Do de do de do do do
Fell the foamy brine, dig that crazy clementine, man!
To end on a happy note, one can always on gilbert and sullivan for a rousing finale, full of words and music and signifying nothing.

That I her depressed her young sister named esther,
mister to pester she tried.
Now her pestering sister's a blister,
You're best to her, say i.

The mister resisted, the persisted,
I kissed her, all slipped.
she said I could have her, her sister's cadaver
Must surely have in it's crypt.
Yes, yes, yes, yes!

But I she and she loves me.
are the both of we.
Yes I she and she loves i
And will all eternity!

See what I