Luyện nghe bài hát San Francisco Mabel Joy

Oh, his daddy was an man,
Red-dirt, farmer.
His lived her short life,
Havin' and balin' hay.
He had years,
And an ache to wander,
a freight in Waycross,
up in L.A.

Oh, the cold had no pity,
On that Waycross, Georgia boy.
Most he went hungry,
the summer came.
He met a girl on the Strip,
As San Francisco Joy.
child,
Born on an L.A. called shame.

Growing up quietly,
In the of Mabel Joy.
And laughter found mornings,
It brought a to his life.
On the night she left,
Sleep came, that Waycross country boy,
With of Georgia cotton,
And a wife.

Sunday found him standin' 'neath,
The red at her door.
When a right cross him reelin',
Put him face on the floor.
Lord, in of Mabel Joy he found.
A man marine.
who growled, "Your Georgia is red,
But, sonny, still green."

He twenty-one,
In a Gray Rock prison.
Ol' had no mercy,
On Waycross, Georgia boy.
Starin' at those four walls,
In silence he listen,
To that freight,
He knew could take him back to Joy.

Sunday mornin' him lyin' 'neath
The red at her door,
with a in his side he cried,
"Have you seen Joy?"
Stunned and shaken, said,
"Son, she don't here no more.
No, she left this four years today,
They say she's looking for some farm boy."

stylings to end.]