Luyện nghe bài hát Soliloquy

I wonder he'll think of me
I he'll call me "the old man"
I he'll think I can lick
other fella's father
Well, I can

I bet he turns out to be
The spittin' of his dad
But he'll have more sense
Than his puddin'-headed ever had

I'll teach him to wrassle and through a wave
When we go in the for our swim
His can teach him the way to behave
But she make a sissy 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 tough as a tree, Bill
Like a he'll grow with his head held high
And his feet planted on the ground
And you see nobody dare to try to boss or toss him around
No pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully'll him around

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

He can haul a scow a canal
Run a cow a corral
Or maybe bark for a
Of course, it takes to do that well

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

Spoken His mother would like that, but he be President unless he wanted to be
Not

My boy, he'll be tall and as tough as a tree, will Bill
Like a tree he'll grow his head held high
And his feet planted on the ground
And you won't see nobody to try to boss or toss him around
No fat-bottomed, flabby-faced, pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully'll him around

And I'll be damned if he'll his boss's daughter
A virgin with blood like water
Who'll give him a peck and call it a
And in his eyes through a *lorgnette*
Hey, why am I takin' on like
My kid ain't even born yet

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

She be so bad, at that
A kid ribbons in her hair
A kind of neat and petite little tin-type of her
What a

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

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

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