Luyện nghe bài hát Jolson and Jones

As the grossness of lolls its head against the window
As the grossness of spring its bloodshot head
Curare! Curare! Curare!
Brogue cries from the
Curare! Curare!
As the of spring rose
A tumor balloon to squeak the window
With the grossness of spring staining the walls
The chair had been shifted so slightly
Say five feet or two
The prints of my fingers dusted from
A lamp had dimmed
sawdust where a ring had been
Where nice girls were turned into
Gardens with fountains peacocks had strutted
Where deaf children were
The splendor of tigers to gold in the desert
Pale meadows of stranded
boy
such a boy
a song in the air
Curare! Curare! Curare!
But the fair senorita don't to care
Curare! Curare! Curare!
As the grossness of spring lolls its head against the
As the of spring lolls its bloodshot head
I merely got up so
across the floor
Closed the on the landing
the stairs
Dipping into the
The paralysed
says "Good afternoon!"
I say "Good afternoon!"
"It's a afternoon"
"Yes, it's a afternoon"I
Into pockets unstitching so with pins
Into eyes imploding on of sins
The puddle beneath the
Bobbing on a mild chop rolled in
Off the river Dix and the water beyond
says
"I'LL PUNCH A IN THE STREETS OF GALWAY"
me
"I'LL PUNCH A IN THE STREETS OF GALWAY"

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