Luyện nghe bài hát J C Cohen

+J. C.
Listen, all you children, to my sad refrain,
About a conductor on a runaway train.
Squeezing into cars, he won his fame.
(yeah) And John Charles was the great man's name.
J. C. Cohen, what a conductor,
IRT, that's a line,
And if you gotta uptown,
a greater conductor than Leonard Bernstein.
'Twas on a in the summer, and from everywhere,
People to take a subway to the World's Fair.
A a million people tried to push and jar,
All of them to get in one car.
But the IRT depended on finest men.
J. C. Cohen could pack a subway a sardine can.
He pushed the up and back and 'round about.
He squeezed so many in, he the conductor out.
J. C. Cohen, what a conductor,
How moan, "Step to the rear."
J. C. Cohen, he had a problem,
On a subway train an engineer.
J. C. to get into the engineer's place,
But when he inside the cab he saw a strange man's face.
A half-pint with a full-pint bottle.
He out the bottle, and he yelled, "Full throttle!"
They passed Columbus Circle 82,
'Couple minutes later they under Bronx Zoo.
J. C. shuddered, and he said, "I
This used to be a Local, but now an Express."
J. C. Cohen, what a conductor,
Kept his head when was tense.
He said, "When we pass the limits,
Everybody another fifteen cents."
J. C. said, "We're north, my friends,
But not a man alive where the subway ends."
The train went under at 90 flat,
And Governor hollered, "What was that!?"
A lady said to J. C. Cohen indignation,
"If this is Albany, you have passed my station.
So either you take me back to Fifty-ninth Street,
Or ask one of these to give me his seat."
J. C. Cohen, a great conductor,
J. C. Cohen noticed odd.
When he saw on the roadbed,
He said, "I got a feeling we're beneath Cod."
Oh well, the kept speeding to the north, my friends,
Finally came to where the ends.
When they came up to the surface the long, long hole,
They were 27 from the great North Pole.
J. C. hollered, "Everybody out!
This is the end of the line, the shadow of a doubt."
They went out to get some air, and before they took a whiff,
Cohen and all the passengers frozen stiff.
J. C. Cohen, a great conductor,
his soul, he ran out of luck.
J. C. Cohen, he was frozen,
And he had to be brought home in a Good truck.
When they told Mrs. that she'd lost her man,
She said, "Must you me when I'm playing Pan?"
Then she to her partner, Mrs. R. J. Rosen,
"Cohen was a lovely husband, but he's no frozen."
Then she went to her little boy, and his hand,
And she said, "I'm going to you out to Disneyland.
So Melvin, darling, don't you weep or wail,
'Cause you got another on the monorail."
(Got another on the monorail.)