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 he turns out to be
The spittin' of his dad
But have more common sense
Than his puddin'-headed father had

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

Bill. I will see that he is named me, I will
My boy, Bill, be tall and tough as a tree, will Bill
Like a tree he'll grow with his held high
And his feet firm on the ground
And you see nobody dare to try to boss or toss him around
No pot-bellied, bully'll boss him around

I don't give a 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 a boat on a river or peddle a pack on his back
Or work up and down the streets of a town a whip and a horse and a hack

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

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

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

My boy, Bill he'll be and as tough as a tree, will Bill
Like a tree he'll grow with his head high
And his feet firm on the ground
And you won't see nobody dare to try to or toss him around
No fat-bottomed, flabby-faced, pot-bellied, baggy-eyed boss him around

And I'll be damned if he'll his boss's daughter
A skinny-lipped virgin with blood like
Who'll give him a peck and it a kiss
And in his eyes through a *lorgnette*
Hey, why am I on like this?
My kid ain't even born yet

I can see him he's seventeen or so
And startin' in to go a girl
I can give him of pointers
sound, on the way to get 'round any girl
I can him
Wait a
it be?
What the
What if he is a
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 neat and little tin-type of her mother
What a

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

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

I get ready before she comes
make certain that she won't be dragged up in slums with a lot o' bums like me
She's gotta be sheltered and fed and in the best that money can buy
I knew how to get money but, I'll try, by God! I'll try
I'll go out and it or steal it
Or it or die