Luyện nghe bài hát Peter The Cabby

Peter's a on Adelaide roads
And in o'clock traffic that's a hard road to hoe
Hunts for his family in a with a two-way and meter
And there's no air conditioning where he his trade
On the green plate by the Rundle Arcade
Sits and he waits for the privilege of driving you

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

And knows very well city of gardens
take you from town drop you at Marsden
Peak hour: five minutes, if you think 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 could be at Woodville, you could be at
Sun may be burning, fog may be
But Peter's still all down that endless white line
Could be the morning, midday or
He'll sell you a ride, his yellow roof
Till a drag gives him a job to go home