Luyện nghe bài hát Clementine

I should like to consider the folk song, and expand briefly on a theory I have held for some time, to the effect that the reason 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, the old favorite, with 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 had tried writing this song. the first verse might have come out like this:

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

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

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

boxes senza topses sandalae per clementina,
Herring boxes senza topses per clementina,
Che sciagura clementina, che clementina, cara 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 had tried writing a verse, the next one might have come out like this:

Drove those to the water
Yeah brach! doo doo uh ah!
Ev'ry like 9am
Ooh pah! de do de do do do, da!
Got hung up on a splinter, got a-hung up on a
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 count on and sullivan for a rousing finale, full of words and music and signifying nothing.

That I missed her depressed her sister named esther,
This to pester she tried.
Now her pestering a festering blister,
best to resist her, say i.

The mister resisted, the persisted,
I her, all loyalty slipped.
When she said I could have her, her cadaver
Must surely turned 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