Luyện nghe bài hát Drinkin' In My Sunday Dress

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

Telephone is by the bottle is always by my bed.
to time 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 play the part of the in distress,
ashes in my coffee,
Drinkin' in my dress.

Well I've on the road to this,
An' I've on the way to this,
But who'd 'a think come to this?
let on you've seen me like this, like 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 thrown away the blender,
I've poured out all the from now on nothin' but the best:
Cognac an' Cline,
drinkin' in my Sunday dress.

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

Our is a kingly soul; repents '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 said: "I've seen you the altar,
"Gulpin' Communion wine."
"Just remember who's beside you when no business of mine."
I said: "Just who's beside you when it's no business of mine."