Luyện nghe bài hát Fireball Rolled A Seven

Somewhere in South Carolina near a track there's a shrine
Erected to the memory of a little 'ole of mine
A natural born dirt dauber, car was his game
He rolled 'ole 7 Fireball was his name

With the makings of a honker and a roll of bailing
He tied his hopes together and just set them tracks on
Three fifty on the hood; a big 7 on each door
In his heart a will to win and his right on the floor

His motto was a simple one "Stand on it and left.
If someone's gonna beat you him run"
All he knew was and always lead the rest
Fireball rolled a and he won.

He took the world 600, the old 5
Bristol, Richmond, Nashville, Daytona for the
The hotdogs it on him. They'd draft, chart, and sweat.
But Fireball rolled a seven, the kind that's to get.

He had the pole at he won it off the rail.
And he run at Charlotte, 600 miles of Hell.
A slingshot sewed up Petty; he was out in real fast.
A flag was in the bag; nobody would get past.

He was flat out in that shoot; only 3 laps from the start.
he saw a yellow bumper cross up and come apart.
A rookie and a shaker, runnin' scared and it all.
A hush on that crowd; number 7 took the wall.

His old skidlid hangs in the hall, the little gone,
To save a he laid it on the line.
His old is rust and bound, but his memory still lives on.
Fireball rolled a every time.
Fireball rolled a seven time.