Luyện nghe bài hát Comin' Back For More

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'Way up in the
Where the oaks grow
And the coneys and the picas
Where the marmots
All in the ground
And the blows cold all day

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

Now, it's kind'a hard to
But altercate your mind
If you happen to go the way
You take Slumgullion
And don't for no gas
you get yourself to Al's Caf

It was the genuine,
Highly
Finger-lickin' caf
It was Al Legendary
Coronary
Cannibal Bar and

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

the coyotes howl
And the on the prowl
They ain't for your customary prey
Nah, they're for bones
In a pile a' hot
At old Al Caf

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

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

When the went to get 'im
Old Al et 'em
And he buried all the bones in the

Now you know them
toasted marshmellas
And they didn't fall in the hay
But it had a hard winter
So he had 'em all for
And they didn't find their until May

Well, the folks in Lake
Showed very pity
So they him to hang next day
But before could noose 'im
Old Al got an'
He's for you, today

[Courtesy of Chip Davis.]

Comin' for more
back for more
Baby, back for more
Cafe
Comin' for more
back for more
Baby, back for more
(Now 'way up in the
Where the scrub grow
And the coneys and the picas )

Where the marmots
All in the ground
And the blows cold all day

There's a pile a' stones
On a pile a' bones
a-what the archaeologists say
But the folks in City
Well, they sing a different
It would like to make your turn gray

Now, it's kind'a to find
But it'll altercate mind
If you to go the right way
You take Pass
And stop for no gas
Until you get yourself to Caf

It was the genuine,
pathological
Finger-lickin' caf
It was Al Legendary
Culinary
Bar and Buffet

Some night
You're gonna see a weird
Up on Cannibal Plateau, they say Boohoohaha again.]
It's a oak fire
a funeral pyre
Old been a-cookin' all day

And when the howl
And the on the prowl
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 Cafe Bleah! [Could it be... Davis?]