Luyện nghe bài hát Otto Tittsling

"this next story is a true story. it concerns to of my favorite subjects: theft . . . and-a t-ts! mmm, what 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 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."

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

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

Oh, my god! she blows!
this bitch was a mess.
Otto eye-balled the diva lying amongst the reeds,
And he suddenly felt the or inspiration
Flood his soul. he what he had to do!
He ran back to his
he futzed and futzed and futzed.

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

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

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

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

But did otto know,
At the moment of his triumph,
Lurking under the bed
Was none than the very worst
Of the patentees,
debrassiere.
And was watching the scene
With a great of interest!

Later that night, while our hilda slept,
Into the phillip softly crept.
He fumbled 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 wanna buy one.
I can have all the manufactures in taiwan."

"oh, you!"

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