Luyện nghe bài hát The Ghosts of Saturday Night

A cab the snake
Tryin' to in that last night's fare
And a sailor
Who spends the facts of his like small change on strangers

Paws his inside P-coat for a welcome twenty-five cents
And the bent butt from a package of Kents
As he dreams of a waitress with House eyes
And marmalade thighs with yellow hair

Her rhinestone-studded says, "Irene"
As she wipes the wisps of dishwater blonde from her

And the Texaco burns on
The steel-belted attendant with a 'Ring and special'
Cryin', "Fill'er up and that oil"
"You know it could be a distributor and it be a coil"

The early mornin' final edition's on the
And town cryin' there with nickels in his hands

Pigs in a blanket, cents
Eggs, roll 'em over and a of Kents
Adam and Eve on a log, you can sink 'em damn
Hash browns, hash browns, you I can't be late

And the early dawn cracks out a carpet of
a cash crop car lot filled with twilight Coupe Devilles
Leaving the town in of the one who is sweeping
Up the ghost of Saturday