Luyện nghe bài hát Jolson and Jones

As the grossness of lolls its head against the window
As the of spring lolls its bloodshot head
Curare! Curare! Curare!
cries from the street
Curare! Curare!
As the grossness of rose
A tumor balloon to squeak against the
With the grossness of spring into the walls
The chair had been ever 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 fountains 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
There's a in the air
Curare! Curare! Curare!
But the fair senorita don't seem to
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
Shuffled the floor
Closed the on the landing
Descending the
Dipping into the
The street
Brogue "Good afternoon!"
I say "Good afternoon!"
"It's a afternoon"
"Yes, it's a afternoon"I
pockets unstitching so weighted with pins
Into eyes imploding on mazes of
The puddle the cork
Bobbing on a mild chop that in
Off the river Dix and the open beyond
says
"I'LL PUNCH A DONKEY IN THE 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
and e-e-aw