Luyện nghe bài hát F - Hole

(difford/tilbrook)

I wrote her on a bar mat
She had a bonnet,
But a youngish figure
her tongue tied to a trigger,
She seemed a killer
Her all filled with filler,
Her face a palette
I all her habits,
her snow balls poshly like a judge
But her lipstick traces on her mug.
We watched each closely
She looks bela lugosi,
She asked me for a home
I around for my comb,
And in the bar mirror
I combed through her figure,
She wiggled the car park
the pit of my heart,
Sat herself me in my van
A on every finger of her hand.

She down by the river
A flat the give her,
Wallpaper very
Her outlook beatnik,
We watched the and weather
Then through the he entered,
Short sleeves and of iron
And me just my tie on,
She said the lodger's used to by now
I'd handled all the but not the cow.

her velvet sofa
I found back sober,
She an old acoustic
She never ever it,
A gift for me a capo
A six string an f-hole,
We made the couple
A laurel and double,
I to play her favourite country songs
one or two chords always going wrong