Luyện nghe bài hát Otto Tisling

"This story is a true story.
It concerns two of my subjects:
theft . . . and-a t-ts!
Mmm, a combo! This is the story . . .
The inventor of the modern garment
that we women wear was a German scientist
and opera by the name of Otto Titsling!
This is a story.
His name was Titsling.
What happened to Otto Titsling shouldn't to a schnauzer.
It's a very sad story. I feel I to share it with you."

Titsling, inventor and kraut,
had nothing to get very up about.
His inventions were failures, his future 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 they would impede her.
Bug-eyed he watched her fall the pit,
done in by the of those terrible t-ts.

Oh, my god! she blows!
Aerodynamically this was a mess.
Otto eyeballed the diva lying amongst the reeds,
and he suddenly the fire of inspiration
flood his soul. He knew he had to do!
He ran back to his
he futzed and futzed and futzed.

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

night he'd sweat and snort
searching for the support.
He some string and paper clips.
Hey! He even his own two lips!

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

Exhausted but he ran
the street to the diva's house
bearing the in his hot little hand.
Now, the did not want to try the darn thing on.
But, after initial misgivings,
she did.
And the of relief that issued forth
from the mouth
was so loud that it was mistaken by
to be the early of the Siroccan 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 was watching the scene
with a great of interest!

that night, while our Brun Hilda slept,
into the Philippe softly crept.
He fumbled knickers and corsets galore,
'til he Otto's titsling and he ran out the door.

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

"Oh, you!"

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

"Ohhh! you!"