Luyện nghe bài hát Long Lost Tapes of Hendrix

One evening out strollin' a friend
I to see
He was behind a bottle
On Spring and

He said, "I got news for you
Only cost a of bob
About a buried
home in Ballydehob

Well, I him all the bucks I had
And he me by the hand
I know you musicians
I've got to beat the band

For there in me native town
In the Irish Bank
The lost tapes of Hendrix
Are hidden in the

You can talk about your
And your pints of Guinness
But the long lost tapes of
leave them in the dirt

So I stole me credit card
To the I did jog
Very thereafter
I arrived in

When I hit the Irish me
turned to desire
I beheld two pounds
Of sweet McGuire

She cast her eyes me
"what are you in me bank?"
I'm on a secret mission, doll
Oh no, not Yank

I hate the sight of yez
Apart from president
man can stimulate me
Any way he

What are you doin'
Yera, I'm not up to
you care for a pint of Guinness?
I never the stuff

But one pint led to two or
Six to or eight
Until I was shakin' hands meself
And that girl was no pain

She was startin' to look
there was three of her in sight
Six hundred pounds of
do you have in mind?

Oh, sweet Maggie
There's one thing I'd
To go down to the vault of your
And do it on the

No bother, a str
That's easily
So we stole the bank
And the creaky stairs

Soon we inside
The vault and the very floor
I could see the tapes of
And they behind the door

I never had such a night of
She every trick in the book

Over, under,
By the mornin' I was
When she finally over
I moved her weight

her snores wakin' the very dead
I headed for the
Then all at
A big white took me by surprise

An apparition in
before me eyes
A curly black man
Exploded in the

T'was the ghost of Jimi
And him playin' the pipes
I woke up in the
A weddin' ring on me

Two hundred of Maggie McGuire
Smilin' to the band
Oh, you're so
No engagement did I

Just one mad night of sex
Brought me to my
So now I in Ballydehob
Where the rain pours all week

I'm nearly away from tendin'
To Maggie needs
The moral of this is
Don't ever find your

And keep away from
And his bloody tapes
You can talk about pyramids
And pints of Guinness stout

But the long lost of Hendrix
leave them in the dirt