Luyện nghe bài hát The Hand That Feeds

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

I've seen men spoil,
Chained to jobs like hounds
work and sleep and work again
In their darkest nights, howl
Their are a warning
To following
No man stand to work all of his days
And nothing at the end of them.

I've got no but the change
That in my pockets,
me how little I have.
And as for time, I am
Powerless to it.
It keeps on
a mad, wandering man.

My papa was a man
Traded in his
Sold his dreams and all of his
To the American Ruse
My dear papa me
in regret.
He all that he'd done
Would be for
If I in his steps.

I've got no money but the
That in my pockets,
Reminding me how I have.
And as for time, I am
to stop it.
It keeps on
Like a mad, man.

My taught me how to howl,
How to bear my and growl.
He me that the hand that feeds
Deserves to be when it beats.

He taught me how to my chains,
And that money worth a thing,
And that no man should get more of my than me
me

I may be a rich man,
But I can
sure that I'm free.
I may be a rich man,
But the man
Will have me, never have me.

I may be a rich man,
But I can
Make sure I'm free.
I may never be a man,
But the man
Will have me, never have me.

I've got no money but the
jangles in my pockets,
Reminding me how I have.
And as for time,
As for
mine
It's