Luyện nghe bài hát Tombstone Blues

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, John the Baptist, after torturing a
up at his hero, the Commander-in-Chief
Saying, "Tell me, great hero, but please make it
Is a hole for me to get sick in?"

The answers him while chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all who would whimper and cry"
And, a barbell, he points to the sky
Saying, "The not yellow, it's chicken"

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

The king of the Philistines, his to save
Puts jawbones on their tombstones and flatters their
Puts the pied pipers in and fattens the slaves
Then sends out to the jungle

Gypsy Davey a blowtorch, he burns out their camps
With his faithful slave behind him, he tramps
With a fantastic collection of
To win friends and influence his

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

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

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

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

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

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

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