Luyện nghe bài hát Work Song

Deliver the paper the porn
the baker deliver the morn
A quiverin' jibberin' shiverin'

Of sunshine and good that I have to pass
On the way to my job on the way to my
On the way to that hoverin' jerk

my boss today? Who's my boss to stay?
Who's my when I'm in my grave?
A on the run still under the gun
Of the Hun with a cinnamon bun

I don't know son, was somethin' I missed
I don't Fritz Lang was a fantasist
Metropolis is this
If you listen you can hear the piss

Every another loss need the pay so please the boss
Through the they mingle by the mile
Every worker looks ahead ah the kiddies be fed
So they trudge along in single

Joo boo haa ooo

And you turn and you toil and you burn and you
In the tourniquet of the white folks' soil
Spoilin' with a malaise worse than or dope
Wakin' up in a haze with your and hopes
And poor little dreams all wrapped up in burlap

That you carry for a sniff or a snack
Or a taste in your haste to get right back on
Outta whack with the but acquiring the knack
Of ignoring the rustle that seethes
The hustle, the the air that you breathe

Every day's another loss the pay so please the boss
Through the sludge they mingle by the
Every looks ahead ah the kiddies must be fed
So trudge along in single file

Joo boo haa ooo