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 to be nervous

The ghost of Belle Starr, she hands down her
To Jezebel the nun, she violently
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 with the tombstone blues

The hysterical in the penny 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 man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and he to the bride
"Stop all this weeping, swallow your
You will not die, not poison"

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

Well, John the Baptist, after a thief
up at his hero, the Commander-in-Chief
Saying, "Tell me, great hero, but make it brief
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 lookin' for
I'm in the with the tombstone blues

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

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

Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no
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 book to get
At Delilah, sitting worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are laughter

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

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

Where Ma Rainey and Beethoven once unwrapped bedroll
Tuba players now around the flagpole
And the Bank 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
That could hold you, lady, from going insane
That could ease you and you and cease the pain
Of useless and pointless knowledge

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