Luyện nghe bài hát Otto Tittsling

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

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

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

Oh, my god! she blows!
Aerodynamically bitch was a mess.
Otto eye-balled the diva comatose amongst the reeds,
And he suddenly felt the fire or
Flood his soul. he knew he had to do!
He ran to his workshop
Where he and futzed and futzed.

For otto titsling had found his
To and mold the female breast;
To point the ones to the sky;
To keep the big ones and dry!

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

Well, he stiched and he
And he and he stitched
Until 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!

Exhausted but he ran
Down the to the diva's house
Bearing the prototype in his hot 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 by some
To be the early of the seraken winds
would often roll through the schwarzwald
a vengance!
Ahhhhh-i!

But little did know,
At the of his greatest triumph,
under the diva's bed
Was none other than the worst
Of the patentees,
debrassiere.
And phil was the scene
With a great of interest!

Later that night, while our hilda slept,
the wardrobe phillip 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 make me a million from this!
Every woman in the will wanna buy one.
I can have all the goods in taiwan."

"oh, you!"

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