Luyện nghe bài hát Griselda

Griselda is greedy, I'm to say.
She contented with four meals a day,
breakfast and dinner and supper and tea
(I've had to put tea supper-you see
Why, you?)
Griselda is greedy as can be.

She snoops the larder
For sundry supplies,
She the little crusty bits
Off rims of pies,
She the roast-potato-dish
Sunday dinner's done,
And if are two left in it
Griselda one;
Cold and cold cauliflower
She in little chunks-
And when calls:
"What are you there?"
bunks.

Griselda is greedy. Well, how she feels,
She simply can't help eating meals,
And always forgets it's leading to, though
The has frequently told her: "You know
Why, you?"
the stomach-ache starts and Griselda says:
"Oh!"

She down to the dining-room
When in bed,
For on the supper-tray,
And buttered of bread,
A from the biscuit-box,
Lump from the bowl,
A from the pickle-jar,
Are all Griselda's
She the salted almonds,
And she tries the candied
And when Dad
"Who is it below?"
scoots.

Griselda is greedy. Her scold,
And tell her how sorry she'll be she's old,
She will lose her complexion, sure to grow fat,
She will spoil her inside-does she know what she's
(Why do they?)
Some people are greedy. it at that.