Luyện nghe bài hát Jolson and Jones

As the grossness of spring lolls its against the window
As the grossness of spring its bloodshot head
Curare! Curare! Curare!
cries from the street
Curare! Curare!
As the grossness of rose
A balloon to squeak against the window
With the grossness of spring staining into the
The had been shifted ever so slightly
Say five or two centimeters
The prints of my dusted from doorknobs
A lamp had been
Some sawdust where a had been
Where nice girls were turned whores
Gardens with fountains where peacocks had
Where children were born
The splendor of tigers turning to in the desert
Pale meadows of pyramids
boy
such a boy
a song in the air
Curare! Curare! Curare!
But the senorita don't seem to care
Curare! Curare! Curare!
As the grossness of spring lolls its head against the
As the grossness of spring its bloodshot head
I merely got up so
across the floor
Closed the on the landing
the stairs
Dipping into the
The paralysed
Brogue "Good afternoon!"
I say "Good afternoon!"
"It's a afternoon"
"Yes, a lovely afternoon"I
pockets unstitching so weighted with pins
Into eyes imploding on of sins
The puddle beneath the
on a mild chop that rolled in
Off the river Dix and the open water
says
"I'LL A DONKEY IN THE STREETS OF GALWAY"
me
"I'LL PUNCH A DONKEY IN THE OF GALWAY"

"I'LL A DONKEY 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
E-e-aw and