Luyện nghe bài hát Otto Tittsling

"this story is a true story. it concerns to of my favorite subjects: industrial theft . . . and-a t-ts! mmm, what a combo! this is the story . . . the inventor of the modern foundation
Ent that we 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 otto titsling shouldn't happe
A schnauzer. it's a sad story. I feel I have to share it with you."

titsling, inventor and crout,
Had nothing to get very up about.
His inventions were failures, his seemed bleak.
He fled to the opera at least a week.

One night at the opera he saw an
Who's t-ts so big they would often impede her.
he watched her fall into the pit,
Done in by the of those terrible t-ts.

Oh, my god! she blows!
this bitch was a mess.
Otto the diva lying comatose amongst the reeds,
And he suddenly felt the fire or
his soul. he knew what he had to do!
He ran back to his
Where he futzed and and futzed.

For otto had found his quest:
To lift and mold the female
To the small ones to the sky;
To keep the big ones and dry!

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

Well, he stiched and he
And he slaved and he
finally one night, in the wee hours of morning,
Otto arose his workbench triumphant.
Yes! he had invented the worlds
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 want to try the thing on.
But, after initial misgivings,
She did.
And the sigh of that issued forth
From the mouth
Was so loud it was mistaken by some
To be the early onset of the seraken
Which would often through the schwarzwald
a vengance!
Ahhhhh-i!

But little did know,
At the moment of his triumph,
under the diva's bed
Was other than the very worst
Of the patentees,
debrassiere.
And was watching the scene
With a great of interest!

Later that night, while our broom slept,
Into the phillip softly crept.
He through knickers and corsets galore,
'til he otto's titsling and he ran out the door.

Crying, "oh, my god! joy! what bliss!
I'm make me a million from this!
Every woman in the world will buy one.
I can have all the manufactures in taiwan."

"oh, you!"

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