Luyện nghe bài hát The Little Lady Preacher

Oh, the little lady preacher from the church
I'll never forget her, I
She preached each Sunday mornin' on the local
With a big black and a snow-white dress

She was nineteen years of age and was developed to a
But I admit she knew the Bible well
A white lace hanky marked the text that she would use
She'd breathe into that microphone and us all to hell

She had a guitar by the name of Luther Short
A hairy-legged soul, out in sin
She would turn and smile at Luther when the program commence
a voice as sweet as angels she would break out in a hymn

I was pickin' for her too with what we call the bass
I clung to every word that passed her
She was down on booze and cigarettes and high on days to
And she'd punctuate the prophecy with movements of her

The Lord, knows how I loved her, He was there time she preached
But ol' Luther took her each Sunday morn'
Lookin' back I still recall the way it hurt my pride
I to be a hero but they're made not born

Sometimes ol' Luther showed up at the studio
And smokin' was a thing he to do
She never said a word to him but said a for me
I her in a way that I'd been prayin' for her too

One Sunday her old man showed up and that she was gone
Said she and brother had a call
I can see me in that studio that day
I had to the heartbreak, unemployment and all

I don't know where they are, 'cause I ain't seen people since
Lord, if I judge 'em let me give 'em o' room
I ol' Luther Short and he's a hard ol' boy to change
And I've often sat and wondered who it was converted