Luyện nghe bài hát F - Hole

(difford/tilbrook)

I wrote her on a bar mat
She had a bonnet,
But a youngish damsel
With her tongue to a trigger,
She seemed a killer
Her face all filled filler,
Her a painting palette
I all her habits,
Sipped her balls poshly like a judge
But her lipstick traces on her mug.
We watched other closely
She looks like lugosi,
She asked me for a ride
I around for my comb,
And in the bar mirror
I right through her figure,
She wiggled through the car
the pit of my heart,
Sat herself me in my van
A on every finger of her hand.

She lived down by the
A flat the council her,
Wallpaper scenic
Her outlook beatnik,
We watched the close and
through the door he entered,
Short sleeves and arms of
And me with my tie on,
She said the used to this by now
I'd handled all the but not the cow.

Behind her sofa
I myself back sober,
She kept an old
She ever used it,
A gift for me a capo
A six with an f-hole,
We made the couple
A and hardy double,
I learnt to play her country songs
With one or two always going wrong