Luyện nghe bài hát The Jungle Line

Rousseau walks on paths
Safaris to the heart of all jazz
Through I and girders, through wires and pipes
The mathematic circuits of the nights

huts, through Harlem, through jails and gospel pews
Through the class on and the trash on vine
Through Europe and the deep, deep of Dixie blue
Through savage progress cuts the line

In a blouse she brings the beer
Rousseau a jungle flower behind her ear
Those cannibals of and jive
They'll eat a working girl her alive

With his hard-edged eye and his hand
He paints the cellar full of ferns and orchid
And he a moon above a five-piece band
He hangs it up above the jungle

The line, the jungle line
Screaming in a ritual of sound and
Floating, drifting on the wind
And drooling for a taste of something in

Pretty funneled through valves and smoke
Coy and bitchy, and fine
And charging elephants and chanting slaving
Charging, chanting down the jungle

There's a poppy wreath on a soldier's
There's a poppy snake in a dressing
Poppy poison, tourniquet
It slithers away on brass mouthpiece spit

And metal skin and birds
Go steaming up to Rousseau's
go steaming up to Brooklyn Bridge
Steaming, steaming, steaming up the line