Luyện nghe bài hát Drinkin' In My Sunday Dress

I can barely feels the with all these crumbs down in my bed, oh no.
How can I get to sleep with all buzzin' in my head?
An' who'd've ever thought I'd not complain a mess?
Serves me right, I
is what I get for eatin' crackers with my gin,
An' in my Sunday dress.

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

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

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

Well been on the road to this,
An' I've on the way to this.
I surely ain't a
had my fun and now I must confess.

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