Luyện nghe bài hát F - Hole

(difford/tilbrook)

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

She down by the river
A the council give her,
very scenic
Her outlook beatnik,
We watched the and weather
through the door he entered,
Short and arms of iron
And me just my tie on,
She said the lodger's used to by now
I'd all the bull but not the cow.

Behind her velvet
I found back sober,
She kept an old
She never ever it,
A gift for me with a
A six string an f-hole,
We the strangest couple
A laurel and double,
I learnt to play her country songs
With one or two chords going wrong