Luyện nghe bài hát Comin' Back For More

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

'Way up in the
Where the oaks grow
And the coneys and the play
Where the abound
All a-diggin' in the
And the blows cold all day

There's a little pile a'
On a pile a' bones
That's a-what the say
But the in Lake City
Well, they sing a different
It would like to your hair turn gray

Now, it's kind'a hard to
But it'll altercate mind
If you to go the right way
You Slumgullion Pass
And don't for no gas
Until you get to Al's Caf

It was the genuine,
pathological
Finger-lickin' caf
It was Al Packer's
Fast-food
Cannibal Bar and

Some dark
You see a weird light
Up on Cannibal Plateau, say
It's a scrub oak
a funeral pyre
Old Packer's a-cookin' all day

A-when the howl
And the on the prowl
They ain't lookin' for your customary
Nah, waitin' for bones
In a pile a' hot
At old Al Caf

Comin' back for
Comin' for more
Baby, comin' back for
Al's
Comin' for more
Comin' back for
Baby, comin' back for

(Old Al
Was a real
Got lost in a one day )

the boys went to get 'im
Old Al et 'em
And he buried all the in the clay

Now you know fellas
Wasn't marshmellas
And they didn't asleep in the hay
But it had a hard winter
So he had 'em all for
And they didn't find their boots May

Well, the in Lake City
Showed very pity
So sentenced him to hang next day
But before could noose 'im
Old Al got an'
He's a-lookin' for you,

[Courtesy of Chip Davis.]

Comin' for more
back for more
Baby, comin' for more
Al's
Comin' back for
Comin' for more
Baby, comin' back for
(Now up in the snow
Where the scrub oaks
And the and the picas play )

Where the marmots
All a-diggin' in the
And the blows cold all day

There's a little pile a'
On a little pile a'
a-what the archaeologists say
But the folks in Lake
Well, sing a different ditty
It would like to make hair turn gray

Now, it's kind'a to find
But it'll altercate your
If you happen to go the way
You take Pass
And don't for no gas
Until you get to Al's Caf

It was the genuine,
pathological
Finger-lickin' caf
It was Al Packer's
Fast-food
Cannibal Bar and

dark night
You're see a weird light
Up on Plateau, they say Boohoohaha [Chip again.]
It's a oak fire
a funeral pyre
Old Packer's a-cookin' all day

And the coyotes howl
And the cougar's on the
They ain't lookin' for your customary prey [Yeah, it's Chip.]
Nah, they're for bones
In a a' hot stones
At old Al Packer's Bleah! [Could it be... Davis?]