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Karaoké Don't Marry Her - The Beautiful South

Cet enregistrement est une reprise de Don't Marry Her rendu célèbre par The Beautiful South

Formats inclus :

CDG (MP3+G)
MP4
KFN
?

Le format CDG (également appelé CD+G ou MP3+G) est compatible avec la majorité des machines karaoké. Il comprend un fichier MP3 ainsi que la synchronisation des paroles (Version Karaoké ne vend pas de CD, mais uniquement les fichiers numériques).

Ce format est reconnu par la majorité des appareils (Windows, Mac, iPhone, iPad, Android, TV Connectées...)

Ce format est compatible avec le lecteur de karaoké KaraFun Windows Player. Il permet d'ajouter ou retirer les choeurs, le guide vocal, changer le tempo, la tonalité...

Votre achat vous permet de télécharger cette vidéo dans tous ces formats, et ce sans limite.

À propos

Avec choeurs (au choix dans la version KFN)

Tempo : variable (environ 100 BPM)

Tonalité identique à l'original : Do

Durée : 03:22 - Extrait à : 01:31

EXPLICIT LYRICS

Date de sortie : 1996
Styles : Pop, Rock, En anglais
Auteurs-Compositeurs : Paul Heaton, David Ricardo Rotheray

Les titres à télécharger sont des playbacks bande orchestre, et non la musique originale.

Paroles Don't Marry Her

Think of you with pipe and slippers think of her in bed
Laying there just watching telly think of me instead
I'll never grow so old and flabby that could never be don't marry her, fuck me
And your love life shines like cardboard but your work shoes are glistening
She's a PhD in "I told you so"
You've a knighthood in "I'm not listening"
She'll grab your sweaty bollocks then slowly raise her knee don't marry her, fuck me
When the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay
And you realise you can't make it anyway
You have to wash the car take the kiddies to the park don't marry her, fuck me
Those lovely Sunday mornings with breakfast brought in bed
Those blackbirds look like knitting needles trying to peck your head
Those birds will peck your soul out and throw away the key don't marry her, fuck me
And the kitchen's always tidy and the bathroom's always clean
She's a diploma in "just hiding things"
You've a first in low esteem
When your socks smell of angels but your life smells of brie don't marry her, fuck me
And the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay
And you realise you can't make it anyway
You have to wash the car take the kiddies to the park don't marry her, fuck me
And the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay
And you realise you can't make it anyway
You have to wash the car take the kiddies to the park don't marry her, fuck me

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