Luyện nghe bài hát Jolson and Jones

As the grossness of spring its head against the window
As the grossness of lolls its bloodshot head
Curare! Curare! Curare!
Brogue from the street
Curare! Curare!
As the grossness of spring
A balloon to squeak against the window
With the of spring staining into 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
Some where a ring had been
nice girls were turned into whores
Gardens fountains where peacocks had strutted
Where children were born
The splendor of turning to gold 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 of spring lolls its bloodshot head
I merely got up so
Shuffled the floor
Closed the on the landing
Descending the
Dipping the street
The paralysed
Brogue "Good afternoon!"
I say "Good afternoon!"
"It's a afternoon"
"Yes, it's a afternoon"I
Into pockets so weighted with pins
Into eyes imploding on of sins
The beneath the cork
Bobbing on a chop that rolled in
Off the Dix and the open 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 DONKEY IN THE OF GALWAY"
"I'LL PUNCH A DONKEY IN THE OF GALWAY"
boy
Such a boy
In her voice, a flaw
boy
Such a boy
E-e-aw and