Luyện nghe bài hát Lord Mr. Ford

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

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

Well, I've got a car that's mine
That me and the company own
A ready made pile of manufactured
And if I ain't out of gas in the pouring
I'm a-changing a in a hurricane
I spent three days lost on a cloverleaf

Well, it ain't just the and the traffic jam
makes me the bitter fool I am
But this four wheel buggy is me to death
For gas and oils and and grease
And and tires and anti-freeze
And accessories, well honey that's something else

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

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

Now the average American father and
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, green light, cop
Right turn, no turn, must turn,
Get out the card honey, we're out of gas
Well, now all the car's end to end
Would to the moon and back again
And there'd probably be some fool pull out to

Well now, how I yearn for the good old
Without that monoxide haze
A-hanging over the roar of the
Well, if the Lord that made the and stars
Would have meant for me and you to cars
He'd have seen we was all born with a parking space

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

Come away me Lucille
In my smoking, choking