Luyện nghe bài hát Soliloquy

I wonder what think of me
I guess call me "the old man"
I guess think I can lick
other fella's father
Well, I can

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

I'll teach him to wrassle and dive a wave
When we go in the morning for our
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 he is named after me, I will
My boy, Bill, be tall and tough as a tree, will Bill
Like a tree he'll grow his head held high
And his planted firm on the ground
And you won't see nobody dare to try to or toss him around
No pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully'll boss him

I don't give a damn he does as long as he does what he likes
He can sit on his or work on a rail with a hammer and hammer in spikes
He can ferry a on a river or peddle a pack on his back
Or work up and the streets of a town with 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 that sells you glue
Or President of the United
be all right, too

Spoken His would 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 grow with his head held high
And his feet planted on the ground
And you won't see nobody 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 blood like
Who'll give him a peck and call it a
And look in his through a *lorgnette*
Hey, why am I takin' on like
My kid ain't even born yet

I can see him when seventeen or so
And in to go with a girl
I can him lots of pointers
Very sound, on the way to get 'round any
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, pink and white as peaches and is she
My girl is half again as bright as girls were meant to be
Dozens of pursue her, many a likely lad
Does what he can to woo her her faithful dad

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

I gotta get 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 never knew how to get but, I'll try, by God! I'll try
I'll go out and make it or it
Or it or die