Luyện nghe bài hát January Git

I still in Sunday as being a day of rest
And maybe it's I'm an Irishman
That I like best
Still whose who are you to me I'm alright Fred
But don't let worry your son
For when he grows up and gets out of here
Have A-tomic bomb
Now Maisie (Maisie) and on my right
be
Both of whom are here now by
Our friend U.V.I.P.
Whose conjectoral I'd recommend
Only if you like jazz
Intermingled an ounce of U double K
of eastern Raj Matazz
Close eyes and the door don't forge-t
If you do I take it you know to expect
Still whose who are you to me I'm alright
Fred but don't let that worry son
For he grows up and gets blown out of here
yourself a (really)
(yearly)
non-de-plume A-tomic
Feeling tired one under Oh-
you need is picking up so off you go
(Get up you know)
Whose mundane conjectoral I'd
Only if you like jazz
Intermingled an ounce of U double K
Full of (promised)
Without a (Thomas)
Raj Matazz
Nothing older time nothing sweeter than wine
Nothing physically, recklessly, blind
Nothing I say
Nothing why today
rhymed