Luyện nghe bài hát Soliloquy

I wonder he'll think of me
I guess call me "the old man"
I guess he'll I can lick
Ev'ry fella's father
Well, I can

I bet that he out to be
The image of his dad
But have more common sense
Than his puddin'-headed ever had

teach him to wrassle and dive through a wave
When we go in the for our swim
His can teach him the way to behave
But she won't a sissy out o' him
Not him! Not my boy! Not

Bill. I will see that he is after me, I will
My boy, Bill, he'll be tall and tough as a tree, Bill
a tree he'll grow with his head held high
And his feet firm on the ground
And you won't see nobody dare to try to boss or him around
No pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully'll him around

I give a damn what he does as long as he does what he likes
He can sit on his tail or work on a rail with a hammer and in spikes
He can ferry a boat on a river or peddle a pack on his
Or work up and down the streets of a town with a whip and a and a hack

He can haul a scow a canal
Run a cow around a
Or maybe for a carousel
Of course, it talent to do that well

He be a champ of the heavyweights
Or a fella sells you glue
Or President of the United
be all right, too

Spoken His mother like that, but he wouldn't be President unless he wanted to be
Not

My boy, Bill he'll be tall and as tough as a tree, will
a tree he'll grow with his head held high
And his feet planted on the ground
And you see nobody dare to try to boss or toss him around
No fat-bottomed, flabby-faced, pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully'll him around

And be damned if he'll marry his boss's daughter
A skinny-lipped virgin with like water
give him a peck and call it a kiss
And look in his eyes through a
Hey, why am I on like this?
My kid even been born yet

I can see him when seventeen or so
And in to go with a girl
I can give him of pointers
Very sound, on the way to get any girl
I can him
a minute
it be?
What the
if he is a girl?
You can have fun a son
But you got to be a to a girl

She be so bad, at that
A kid ribbons in her hair
A kind of and petite little tin-type of her mother
What a

My little girl, and white as peaches and cream is she
My little girl is half again as as girls were meant to be
Dozens of pursue her, many a likely lad
Does what he can to woo her from her dad

She has a few pink and young fellas of two and three
But my little girl gets hungry night and she comes home to me

I gotta get ready before she
Gotta make certain that she be dragged up in slums with a lot o' bums like me
She's gotta be sheltered and fed and dressed in the that money can buy
I never how to get money but, I'll try, by God! I'll try
go out and make it or steal it
Or it or die