Luyện nghe bài hát Tombstone Blues

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

The ghost of Belle Starr, she hands down her
To Jezebel the nun, she knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper, who
At the of the Chamber of Commerce

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wish I could give Brother Bill his great
I set him in chains at the top of the hill
Then send out for 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 with the blues

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

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

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