Luyện nghe bài hát The Real American Folk Song

Near Barcelona, the peasant
The old traditional tunes
The Neapolitan street song
You think of skies

Each nation has a vein
Originating a strain
With folk plaintive and others gay
In own peculiar way

folk songs, I feel
Have a much stronger

The real American is a rag, a mental jag
A tonic for the chronic blues
The critics called it a 'Joke
But now they've changed their and they like it, somehow

For it's inoculated a syncopated sort of meter
Sweeter than a classic strain, boy you can't still and quiet
For a riot

The American folksong is like a fountain of youth
You and it elates you and then invigorates you
The real folksong, the masses coaxed on, is a rag

The real American is a rag, a mental jag
A rhythmic tonic for the chronic
The called it a 'Joke Song'
But now they've changed their and they like it, somehow

For it's inoculated a syncopated sort of meter
Sweeter than a classic strain, boy you can't remain still and
For a riot

The real folksong is like a fountain of youth
You taste and it you and then invigorates you
The real folksong is a rag