Luyện nghe bài hát Otto Tisling

"This next story is a story.
It two of my favorite subjects:
industrial theft . . . t-ts!
Mmm, what a combo! This is the . . .
The of the modern foundation garment
that we women wear today was a scientist
and opera lover by the of Otto Titsling!
This is a story.
His was Otto Titsling.
What happened to Otto Titsling shouldn't to a schnauzer.
It's a sad story. I feel I have to share it with you."

Titsling, inventor and kraut,
had to get very worked up about.
His inventions were failures, his seemed bleak.
He fled to the opera at twice a week.

One night at the he saw an Aida
who's t-ts were so big would often impede her.
Bug-eyed he watched her fall the pit,
in by the weight of those terrible t-ts.

Oh, my god! she blows!
this bitch was a mess.
Otto eyeballed the diva lying comatose the reeds,
and he felt the fire of inspiration
flood his soul. He what he had to do!
He ran to his workshop
he futzed and futzed and futzed.

For Titsling had found his quest:
to lift and the female breast;
to point the small to the sky;
to keep the big ones and dry!

Every night sweat and snort
searching for the support.
He tried string and paper clips.
Hey! He even his own two lips!

Well, he stitched and he
and he slaved and he
until finally one night, in the wee of morning,
Otto arose his workbench triumphant.
Yes! He had the worlds first
over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. Hooray!

Exhausted but he ran
down the street to the diva's
the prototype in his hot little hand.
Now, the diva did not to try the darn thing on.
But, after initial misgivings,
she did.
And the sigh of relief that issued
from the mouth
was so loud that it was mistaken by
to be the early onset of the Winds
which would roll through the Schwarzwald
a vengeance!
Ahhhhh-i!

But little did know,
at the moment of his triumph,
under the diva's bed
was none other than the worst
of the French thieves,
DeBrassiere.
And Phil was the scene
a great deal of interest!

Later that night, while our Brun slept,
into the wardrobe softly crept.
He fumbled through and corsets galore,
he found Otto's titsling and he ran out the door.

Crying, "Oh, my god! What joy! bliss!
I'm gonna make me a million this!
Every woman in the world will buy one.
I can all the goods manufactured in Taiwan."

"Oh, you!"

The result of swindle is pointedly clear:
Do you buy a or do you buy a brassiere?

"Ohhh! you!"