Luyện nghe bài hát The Ropin' Pen

Every Friday afternoon, I hitch up the
Saddle up ol' an' ice down the cooler
Drive back road until it ends
At the Pen

There's rusted out an' fancy rigs
dollar horses then there's my ol' stag
But all the same the minute we ride in
To the Pen

Well, I ain't no Clayo
But I her Hell
Hell, you can tell
day I just might be

We'll turn a few steers an' a few lies
Kick in the saddle an' philosophize
Most of life's problems, we can solve 'em
In the Pen

We don't do it for the money, Hell, we're broke
Just ask my ol' buddy Nathan what he'd pay to
He lost a couple of wives, half the fingers on his
To the Pen

An' it takes a skill an' a little luck
An' you can smack if you can back it up
Ah, but all friends, no matter who wins
at the Ropin' Pen

Well, I ain't no Clayo
But I her Hell
Hell, you never can
Some day I just be

turn another pit of steers an' tell a few more lies
Drink another and hypothesize
Most of life's problems, Hell, we're solve 'em
In the Pen

See again, next weekend
at the Ropin' Pen
At the Pen
at the Ropin' Pen
In the Pen