Luyện nghe bài hát Otto Titsling

"This next story is a true story. it two of my favorite 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 scientist and opera lover by the name of Otto Titsling! This is a true story. his name was Otto Titsling. what happened to Otto Titsling shouldn't happen to
a Schnauzer. it's a sad story. I feel I have to share it with you."
Titsling, inventor and Kraut,
Had nothing to get worked up about.
His inventions were failures, his future bleak.
He to the opera at least twice a week.
One night at the he saw an Aida
Who's t-ts were so big they would often her.
Bug-eyed he watched her 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 lying comatose the reeds,
And he suddenly the fire or inspiration
Flood his soul. he what he had to do!
He ran to his workshop
he futzed and futzed and futzed.
For Otto had found his quest:
To lift and the female breast;
To point the ones to the sky;
To keep the big high and dry!
Every night he'd sweat and
for the right support.
He some string and paper clips.
Hey! He even 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 first
Over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. hooray!
but ecstatic he ran
Down the street to the diva's
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 that issued forth
the diva's mouth
Was so loud it was mistaken by some
To be the early of the Sciroccan winds
Which would often blow the Schwarzwald
a vengance!
Ahhhhh-i!
But did Otto know,
At the moment of his triumph,
Lurking the diva's bed
Was none than the very worst
Of the patent thieves,
de Brassiere.
And was watching the scene
With a great of interest!
Later that night, while our slept,
Into the wardrobe Philip crept.
He fumbled through 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 in the world will wanna buy one.
I can have all the manufactured in Taiwan."
"Oh, you!"
The result of this swindle is clear:
Do you buy a or do you buy a Brassiere?