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, what a combo! this is the story . . . the of the modern foundation
Ent that we women wear today was a german scientist and opera lover by the name of otto titsling! is a true story. his name was otto titsling. what happened to otto titsling shouldn't happe
A schnauzer. a very 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 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.
he watched her fall into the pit,
Done in by the weight of terrible t-ts.

Oh, my god! she blows!
Aerodynamically this 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 to his workshop
Where he futzed and and futzed.

For otto titsling had his quest:
To and mold the female breast;
To the small ones to the sky;
To the big ones high and dry!

Every night he'd and snort
for the right support.
He tried some string and clips.
Hey! he tried 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 first
Over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. hooray!

but ecstatic he ran
Down the street to the house
Bearing the in his hot little hand.
Now, the diva did not want to try the thing on.
But, after many misgivings,
She did.
And the sigh of relief that forth
From the diva's
Was so loud it was mistaken by some
To be the early of the seraken winds
Which would often through the schwarzwald
a vengance!
Ahhhhh-i!

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

Later that night, our broom hilda slept,
the wardrobe phillip softly crept.
He fumbled through and corsets galore,
he found otto's titsling and he ran out the door.

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

"oh, you!"

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