Luyện nghe bài hát Bertie's Brochures

August the 20th: Yes, folks, it's another cold, clammy day in England. A large crowd has gathered the police station. Everybody--EVERYBODY--wishes to have contact with a certain little Irish writer within. Not to discuss his works, though the works are known to them; they've been published in the tabloid papers by the police under the heading "Barbaric Butcher's Brochures". No, they want to tear his very head from his body, for what it is alleged he did in the way of mortal damage to two soldiers in a nearby public lavatory. The night draws in. Nobody would say a word about him, except a fool like me [(and his skin)].

In rainy Ireland in the
There outside a farmhouse door
A small Bertie, playing at trenches,
asks, "Daddy, the blowtorch for?"
He said, "The torch will cut the to turn them into sculpture
so I can express what I feel. The men may laugh,
the farmers me, but I do for myself. So should you."

Come look at brochures
You'll be enchanted, I am
The whole world's in Bertie's
All the wisdom, the of dear friends

Through freakshow Britain, the Eighties
Bertie works in labs, though his aims still endure
though only at night he do his real work
Learning, his brochures...

for he still believes that everyone's a
and that all he has to do is to set it
and so the milkman,
the waitress and the gunman immortal ART!!

Now they're laughing at brochures
Detectives with and skewers
They see in Bertie's brochures:
own hatred of all other races and their fear

Don't laugh at brochures
He would not if they yours
So what if your is there?
an artist, so why should he care?
It's the north European peasant