Luyện nghe bài hát Drinkin' In My Sunday Dress

I can barely feels the sheets all these crumbs down in my bed, oh no.
How can I get to sleep with all buzzin' in my head?
An' ever thought I'd not complain about a mess?
me right, I guess:
This is what I get for crackers with my gin,
An' drinkin' in my dress.

Telephone is by the which is always by my bed.
Time to time I give it a rattle to make sure it's not dead.
I wait here for your call till I run out of cigarettes.
I to play the part of the damsel in distress,
ashes in my coffee,
Drinkin' in my dress.

Well I've on the road to this,
An' been on the way to this,
But who'd 'a it'd come to this?
Don't let on you've seen me like this, this.

My old transistor's soundin' as twangy as a Fender.
My radiator growls like after Sunday dinner.
I've drained my last Tequila and I've away the blender,
I've poured out all the wine; from now on nothin' but the
Cognac an' Cline,
While drinkin' in my dress.

Well I've been on the to this,
An' I've on the way to this.
I surely a hypocrite:
I've had my fun and now I confess.

Our reverend is a kingly soul; 'em on a dime.
His Bible is not in gold, he is not the cheatin' kind.
One after meetin', I was in the greetin' line.
He "I've seen you from the altar,
"Gulpin' Communion wine."
"Just who's beside you when it's no business of mine."
I said: "Just remember who's you when it's no business of mine."