Luyện nghe bài hát Jolson and Jones

As the grossness of spring its head against the window
As the of spring lolls its bloodshot head
Curare! Curare! Curare!
Brogue cries the street
Curare! Curare!
As the of spring rose
A tumor balloon to squeak the window
With the grossness of spring into the walls
The chair had been shifted so slightly
Say five feet or two
The prints of my dusted from doorknobs
A had been dimmed
sawdust where a ring had been
Where nice were turned into whores
Gardens with where peacocks had strutted
Where deaf were born
The splendor of turning to gold in the desert
Pale of stranded pyramids
boy
such a boy
a song in the air
Curare! Curare! Curare!
But the fair senorita seem to care
Curare! Curare! Curare!
As the grossness of spring lolls its head the window
As the grossness of spring its bloodshot head
I merely got up so
Shuffled the floor
Closed the door on the
Descending the
Dipping into the
The street
Brogue "Good afternoon!"
I say "Good afternoon!"
"It's a afternoon"
"Yes, it's a afternoon"I
Into pockets so weighted with pins
eyes imploding on mazes of sins
The beneath the cork
on a mild chop that rolled in
Off the river Dix and the open beyond
says
"I'LL A DONKEY IN THE STREETS OF GALWAY"
me
"I'LL PUNCH A IN THE STREETS OF GALWAY"

"I'LL PUNCH A DONKEY IN THE OF GALWAY"
"I'LL PUNCH A DONKEY IN THE OF GALWAY"
boy
Such a boy
In her voice, there's a
boy
Such a boy
and e-e-aw