Luyện nghe bài hát Tombstone Blues

The sweet pretty are in bed now, of course
The fathers, they're trying to endorse
The of Paul Revere's horse
But the town has no need to be

The ghost of Starr, she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun, she violently
A wig for Jack the Ripper, who sits
At the head of the Chamber of

Mama's in the factory, she got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for
I'm in the kitchen with the blues

The hysterical bride in the penny
Screaming, she moans, "I've been made"
sends out for the doctor, who pulls down the shade
And says, "My advice is to not let the in"

Now, the medicine man comes and he shuffles
He walks with a swagger and he says to the
"Stop all weeping, swallow your pride
You not die, it's not poison"

Mama's in the factory, she got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, lookin' for food
I'm in the with the tombstone blues

Well, John the Baptist, after torturing a
Looks up at his hero, the
Saying, "Tell me, great hero, but make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get in?"

The Commander-in-Chief him while chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all those who would and cry"
And, a barbell, he points to the sky
Saying, "The sun's not yellow, chicken"

Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no
Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for
I'm in the with the tombstone blues

The king of the Philistines, his to save
Puts jawbones on their tombstones and their graves
Puts the pipers in prison and fattens the slaves
sends them out to the jungle

Gypsy Davey a blowtorch, he burns out their camps
With his faithful Pedro behind him, he tramps
With a fantastic of stamps
To win and influence his uncle

Mama's in the factory, she got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for
I'm in trouble with the blues

The geometry of innocence, flesh on the
Causes Galileo's math to get thrown
At Delilah, sitting worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are laughter

I I could give Brother Bill his great thrill
I set him in chains at the top of the hill
send out for some pillars and Cecil B. DeMille
He could die ever after

in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen the tombstone blues

Where Ma Rainey and Beethoven once their bedroll
Tuba players now rehearse the flagpole
And the National at a profit sells road maps for the soul
To the old folks' and the college

Now, I wish I could write you a so plain
could hold you, dear lady, from going insane
That could ease you and you and cease the pain
Of your useless and knowledge

in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for
I'm in the kitchen the tombstone blues, oh right