Luyện nghe bài hát F - Hole

(difford/tilbrook)

I wrote her on a bar mat
She had a bonnet,
But a damsel figure
With her tongue to a trigger,
She seemed a killer
Her all filled with filler,
Her a painting palette
I all her habits,
her snow balls poshly like a judge
But left her traces on her mug.
We watched each other
She looks bela lugosi,
She asked me for a ride
I felt for my comb,
And in the bar mirror
I right through her figure,
She through the car park
the pit of my heart,
Sat herself me in my van
A on every finger of her hand.

She lived down by the
A flat the give her,
Wallpaper very
Her very beatnik,
We the close and weather
Then through the he entered,
Short and arms of iron
And me with my tie on,
She the lodger's used to this by now
I'd handled all the but not the cow.

her velvet sofa
I found myself sober,
She an old acoustic
She never used it,
A for me with a capo
A six with an f-hole,
We made the couple
A and hardy double,
I learnt to play her favourite songs
With one or two chords going wrong