Luyện nghe bài hát Otto Titsling

"This next story is a true story. it concerns two of my subjects: industrial theft . . . and-a t-ts! mmm, what a combo! this is the story . . . the inventor of the modern foundation
garment that we women wear today was a German scientist and opera lover by the name of Otto Titsling! This is a true story. his name was Otto Titsling. what happened to Titsling shouldn't happen to
a Schnauzer. it's a very sad story. I feel I have to it with you."
Titsling, inventor and Kraut,
Had nothing to get worked up about.
His inventions were failures, his future bleak.
He fled to the opera at least a week.
One night at the opera he saw an
Who's t-ts were so big they often impede her.
Bug-eyed he her fall into the pit,
in by the weight of those terrible t-ts.
Oh, my god! she blows!
Aerodynamically this was a mess.
Otto eye-balled the diva comatose amongst the reeds,
And he felt the fire or inspiration
Flood his soul. he knew he had to do!
He ran back to his
he futzed and futzed and futzed.
For Titsling had found his quest:
To and mold the female breast;
To point the small to the sky;
To keep the big ones and dry!
Every night he'd sweat and
Searching for the support.
He tried some and paper clips.
Hey! He tried his own two lips!
Well, he and he slaved
And he slaved and he
finally one night, in the wee hours of morning,
Otto arose from his triumphant.
Yes! He had invented the worlds
Over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. hooray!
but ecstatic he ran
Down the street to the house
Bearing the prototype in his hot hand.
Now, the diva did not to try the darn thing on.
But, after many misgivings,
She did.
And the sigh of relief issued forth
From the diva's
Was so loud that it was mistaken by
To be the onset of the Sciroccan winds
Which would often blow through the
a vengance!
Ahhhhh-i!
But did Otto know,
At the moment of his triumph,
under the diva's bed
Was none other than the worst
Of the patent thieves,
de Brassiere.
And Phil was the scene
a great deal of interest!
Later that night, while our slept,
Into the wardrobe softly crept.
He fumbled through knickers and galore,
'til he found titsling and he ran out the door.
Crying, "Oh, my god! joy! what 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 is pointedly clear:
Do you buy a or do you buy a Brassiere?