Luyện nghe bài hát Jolson and Jones

As the of spring lolls its head against the window
As the of spring lolls its bloodshot head
Curare! Curare! Curare!
Brogue from the street
Curare! Curare!
As the grossness of spring
A tumor to squeak against the window
With the grossness of spring into the walls
The chair had been ever so slightly
Say feet or two centimeters
The prints of my fingers dusted doorknobs
A lamp had dimmed
Some sawdust where a had been
Where girls were turned into whores
Gardens fountains where peacocks had strutted
Where deaf were born
The splendor of turning to gold in the desert
Pale meadows of pyramids
boy
such a boy
There's a 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 lolls its 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, a lovely afternoon"I
Into pockets so weighted with pins
Into eyes imploding on of sins
The beneath the cork
Bobbing on a mild chop rolled in
Off the river Dix and the open beyond
Brogue
"I'LL PUNCH A DONKEY IN THE OF GALWAY"
me
"I'LL PUNCH A DONKEY IN THE 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