Luyện nghe bài hát Otto Tittsling

"this next story is a true story. it concerns to of my favorite subjects: industrial theft . . . and-a t-ts! mmm, a combo! this is the story . . . the inventor of the modern foundation
Ent 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 otto titsling shouldn't
A schnauzer. it's a very sad story. I feel I have to share it 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 were so big they would often impede her.
Bug-eyed he watched her into the pit,
Done in by the of those terrible t-ts.

Oh, my god! she blows!
Aerodynamically bitch was a mess.
Otto eye-balled the lying comatose amongst the reeds,
And he suddenly 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 lift and the female breast;
To point the small ones to the
To the big ones high and dry!

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

Well, he and he slaved
And he and he stitched
Until one night, in the wee hours of morning,
Otto arose his workbench triumphant.
Yes! he had the worlds first
Over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. hooray!

Exhausted but he ran
Down the to the diva's house
Bearing the in his hot little hand.
Now, the diva did not to try the darn thing on.
But, after initial misgivings,
She did.
And the sigh of relief issued forth
the diva's mouth
Was so loud it was mistaken by some
To be the early onset of the seraken
Which often roll through the schwarzwald
a vengance!
Ahhhhh-i!

But little did know,
At the of his greatest triumph,
Lurking under the bed
Was none than the very worst
Of the patentees,
debrassiere.
And phil was the scene
a great deal of interest!

Later that night, while our broom slept,
the wardrobe phillip softly crept.
He fumbled through knickers and galore,
'til he found titsling and he ran out the door.

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

"oh, you!"

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