Luyện nghe bài hát Soliloquy

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

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

I'll teach him to and dive through a wave
When we go in the morning for our
His mother can him the way to behave
But she won't a sissy 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, will
Like a tree he'll grow with his head high
And his feet planted firm on the
And you won't see nobody dare to try to or toss him around
No pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully'll him around

I don't a damn what he does as long as he does what he likes
He can sit on his tail or work on a 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 with a whip and a horse and a hack

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

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

My boy, Bill he'll be tall and as as a tree, will Bill
Like a tree he'll grow his head held high
And his feet planted firm on the
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 marry his boss's
A virgin with blood like water
Who'll give him a and call it a kiss
And look in his eyes 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 startin' in to go with a
I can him lots 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 father to a

She mighn't be so bad, at
A kid ribbons in her hair
A of neat and petite little tin-type of her mother
a pair

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

I gotta get ready she comes
Gotta make certain that she won't be dragged up in slums 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 but, I'll try, by God! I'll try
go out and make it or steal it
Or it or die