Luyện nghe bài hát Peter The Cabby

Peter's a cabby on roads
And in five o'clock that's a hard road to hoe
Hunts for his family in a Holden with a and meter
And there's no air conditioning where he plies his
On the green plate stand by the Arcade
Sits and he waits for the of driving you home

And no Mr. Muzak in the front of his cab
Just a crackling voice roadmap
And a torch and a sliding around on the dash
And life's in his hand when they're gripped on the wheel
The water pump and the Michelins squeal
He's been driving for sometimes it feels like forever

And knows very well city of gardens
He'll take you town drop you at Marsden
Peak five minutes, if you think that's easy just try it
He can change a tire in three minutes flat
his own car lying flat on his back
Tunes up his with a timing light in his ear

Oh you be at Woodville, you could be at Stirling
Sun may be burning, fog may be
But Peter's still all down that endless white line
be the morning, midday or midnight
He'll sell you a ride, his yellow roof
Till a drag operator him a job to go home