Luyện nghe bài hát Lord Mr. Ford

Well, if one of the millions who own one of them
Gas drinking, clinking, air polluting, smoke belching
Four wheeled buggies from Detroit City, pay attention
I'm to sing your song son

Well, I'm not a man appointed
To bear and hold a grudge
But I think it's time I said me a few choice
All that demon automobile
A metal box the polyglass wheel
The end result to the of Henry Ford

Well, I've got a car mine alone
me and the finance company own
A made pile of manufactured grief
And if I out of gas in the pouring rain
I'm a-changing a in a hurricane
I once three days lost on a cloverleaf

Well, it ain't just the smoke and the jam
That makes me the bitter I am
But this wheel buggy is a-dollaring me to death
For gas and and fluids and grease
And wires and tires and
And them accessories, well that's something else

Well, you can get a stereo and a color TV
Get a backseat bar and seats
And just pay once a month, you do your rent
Well, I figured it up and a period of time
This four thousand car of mine
Costs fourteen dollars and ninety-nine cents

Well, now Lord Mr. Ford, I wish that you could see
What your horseless carriage has become
Well, it seems contribution to man
To say the least, got a out of hand
Well, Mr. Ford, what have you done

Now the American father and mother
Own one whole car and another
And I bet half a car is a trick to buy, don't you?
But the thing that amazes me I
Is the way we measure a success
By the kind of an automobile he can to buy

Well now, red light, light, traffic cop
turn, no turn, must turn, stop
Get out the credit honey, we're out of gas
Well, now all the car's end to end
Would reach to the moon and again
And there'd probably be fool pull out to pass

Well now, how I yearn for the good old
Without that carbon monoxide
A-hanging over the of the interstate
Well, if the Lord that the moon and stars
Would have meant for me and you to have
have seen that we was all born with a parking space

Lord Mr. Ford, I just wish that you see
your simple horseless carriage has become
Well, it seems your to man
To say the least, got a out of hand
Well, Lord Mr. Ford, have you done

Come away me Lucille
In my smoking, automobile