Luyện nghe bài hát Soliloquy

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

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

I'll teach him to wrassle and dive a wave
we go in the morning 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, he'll be and tough as a tree, will Bill
Like a tree he'll grow with his head high
And his feet planted on the ground
And you see nobody dare to try to boss or toss him around
No pot-bellied, baggy-eyed boss 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 peddle a on his back
Or work up and down the streets of a town with a whip and a horse and a

He can haul a scow along a
Run a cow a corral
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 of the United States
be all right, too

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

My boy, Bill be tall and as tough as a tree, will Bill
Like a tree he'll grow with his head held
And his feet planted on the ground
And you won't see dare to try to boss or toss him around
No fat-bottomed, flabby-faced, pot-bellied, bully'll boss him around

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

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

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

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

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

I gotta get before she comes
Gotta make certain 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 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