Luyện nghe bài hát Working Girls

She she came from Portland
Where the skies and leaden ocean
Left her like the local boys, of emotion
As we talked we watched the
Running down the
in Darlinghurst,
Like a shop from the past.

And her called her Mary
Mary Magdalene,
To her beauty
have been the greatest sin
It was a in the neon and a Kings Cross Doorway lean
To half an of tending someone else's tangled dream.

There were lines of sailors, lines of
Lines upon the Footpath she stared
When were quiet, as night deferred to dawn.
And the cups played red rover
In the that scuttled through the streets
Taxies for greener fields
While Sydney stretched and

And her mother her Mary
Mary Magdalene,
There were in the morning,
She had in the pain;
And the wives would clutch their
they shared the shame,
'cause working streets and are sometimes much the same.

She tap-danced with the
Near the subway shouting songs
They remembered from teenage years of dreamtime radio.
And the years withdrew behind her
To let the girl look out
In simple innocence
At in the sand.

And her mother called her
After Magdalene,
She had long dark and massage oil
And a key to let you in;
And the lines upon her face were maps of she'd travelled,
with people throwing stones because they didn't understand,
That a half an of tenderness (perhaps they shared the same)
'cause streets and Weddingrings are sometimes much the same.