Luyện nghe bài hát Tombstone Blues

The pretty things are in bed now, of course
The city fathers, they're to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul horse
But the town has no to be nervous

The ghost of Starr, she hands down her wits
To the nun, she violently knits
A bald wig for the Ripper, who sits
At the head of the Chamber of

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

The hysterical bride in the penny
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 walks with a swagger and he to the bride
"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 lookin' for
I'm in the kitchen the tombstone blues

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

The Commander-in-Chief answers him while a fly
Saying, "Death to all those who would 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 tombstone

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

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

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

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

I wish I could Brother Bill his great thrill
I would set him in chains at the top of the
send out for some pillars 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 kitchen with the tombstone

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

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

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