Luyện nghe bài hát San Francisco Mabel Joy

Oh, his was an honest man,
Red-dirt, farmer.
His mama lived her life,
kids 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 Waycross, Georgia farm boy.
days he went hungry,
Then the came.
He met a girl on the Strip,
As San Mabel Joy.
child,
Born on an L.A. street shame.

Growing up quietly,
In the arms of Joy.
And laughter their mornings,
It brought a to his life.
On the before she left,
came, left that Waycross country boy,
With dreams of cotton,
And a wife.

mornin' found him standin' 'neath,
The red at her door.
When a right sent him reelin',
Put him down on the floor.
Lord, in place of Joy he found.
A man marine.
who growled, "Your neck is red,
But, sonny, still green."

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

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

[Vocal to end.]