Luyện nghe bài hát Soliloquy

I what he'll think of me
I guess call me "the old man"
I guess think I can lick
Ev'ry other father
Well, I can

I bet that he out to be
The image of his dad
But he'll have more sense
Than his puddin'-headed father had

I'll teach him to wrassle and through a wave
When we go in the morning for our
His mother can teach him the way to
But she won't make a out o' him
Not him! Not my boy! Not

Bill. I will see he is named after me, I will
My boy, Bill, he'll be tall and as a tree, will Bill
Like a tree he'll grow his head held high
And his planted firm on the ground
And you won't see nobody dare to try to or toss him around
No pot-bellied, bully'll boss him around

I don't give a damn what he does as long as he does what he
He can sit on his tail or on a rail with a hammer and hammer in spikes
He can ferry a on a river or peddle a pack on his back
Or work up and down the streets of a town with a whip and a horse and a

He can haul a along a canal
Run a cow a corral
Or bark for a carousel
Of course, it takes talent to do that

He might be a champ of the
Or a fella sells you glue
Or President of the States
be all right, too

Spoken His mother would like that, but he wouldn't be President unless he to be
Not

My boy, Bill he'll be and as tough as a tree, will Bill
Like a tree grow with his head held high
And his planted firm on the ground
And you see nobody dare to try to boss or toss him around
No fat-bottomed, flabby-faced, pot-bellied, baggy-eyed boss him around

And I'll be if he'll marry his boss's daughter
A skinny-lipped virgin with blood water
Who'll give him a peck and it a kiss
And look in his eyes a *lorgnette*
Hey, why am I takin' on like
My kid even been born yet

I can see him when seventeen or so
And startin' in to go a girl
I can give him lots of
sound, on the way to get 'round any girl
I can him
Wait a
it be?
What the
What if he is a
You can fun with a son
But you got to be a to a girl

She mighn't be so bad, at
A kid ribbons in her hair
A of neat and petite little tin-type of her mother
What a

My little girl, pink and as peaches and cream is she
My little girl is half again as bright as were meant to be
of boys pursue her, many a likely lad
Does what he can to woo her her faithful dad

She has a few and white young fellas of two and three
But my little girl gets hungry ev'ry night and she home to me

I gotta get ready she comes
Gotta make certain that she won't be dragged up in slums with a lot o' like me
She's gotta be sheltered and fed and dressed in the best money can buy
I never how to get money but, I'll try, by God! I'll try
I'll go out and make it or it
Or it or die