Luyện nghe bài hát Soliloquy

I wonder he'll think of me
I guess call me "the old man"
I guess he'll think I can
other 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 father had

I'll teach him to 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 make a out o' him
Not him! Not my boy! Not

Bill. I see that he is named after me, I will
My boy, Bill, he'll be tall and tough as a tree, Bill
Like a tree he'll grow with his head high
And his feet planted firm on the
And you won't see dare to try to boss or toss 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 on a rail with a hammer and hammer in spikes
He can ferry a boat on a river or a pack on his back
Or work up and down the streets of a with a whip and a horse and a hack

He can a scow along a canal
Run a cow around a
Or maybe for a carousel
Of course, it takes 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 would like that, but he wouldn't be President he wanted to be
Not

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

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

I can see him when he's or so
And startin' in to go with a
I can give him of pointers
sound, on the way to get 'round any girl
I can him
a minute
it be?
What the
if he is a girl?
You can fun with 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
a pair

My little girl, pink and white as and cream is she
My little is half again as bright as girls were meant to be
Dozens of boys pursue her, 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 ev'ry and she comes home to me

I gotta get ready she comes
Gotta make that she won't be dragged up in slums with a lot o' bums like me
She's gotta be and fed and dressed in the best that money can buy
I never knew how to get money but, I'll try, by God! try
I'll go out and make it or it
Or it or die