Luyện nghe bài hát Lather

Lather was years old today,
They took all of his toys.
His sent newspaper clippings to him,
About his who had stopped being boys.
There was C. Green, just turned thirty-three,
His leather chair at the bank.
And Sergeant Dow Jones, twenty-seven old,
Commanding his own tank.
But Lather still finds it a thing to do,
To lie nude in the sand,
pictures of mountains that look like bumps
And the air with his hands.

But wait, ol' Lather's you know,
He produces the of sound,
drumsticks on either side of his nose,
Snorting the licks in town,

But all over...

Lather was years old today
And lather came from his tongue.
He looked at me, eyes wide, and say,
"Is it true that I'm no young?"
And the call him famous,
What the old men insane.
And sometimes, so nameless,
That he hardly knows game to play,
words to say.

And I should told him, 'No, you're not old.'
And I should let him go on...smiling...babywide.