Luyện nghe bài hát January Git

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