Luyện nghe bài hát Tombstone Blues

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

The of Belle Starr, she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun, she violently
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper, who
At the head of the of Commerce

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

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

Now, the medicine man comes and he 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 lookin' for
I'm in the kitchen the tombstone blues

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

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

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

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

Gypsy Davey with a blowtorch, he burns out camps
With his slave Pedro behind him, he tramps
a fantastic collection of stamps
To win friends and his uncle

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

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

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

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

Where Ma Rainey and Beethoven once unwrapped bedroll
Tuba players now rehearse around the
And the National Bank at a profit sells road maps for the
To the old home and the college

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

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