Luyện nghe bài hát The Jungle Line

Rousseau walks on trumpet
Safaris to the of all that jazz
Through I bars and girders, through wires and
The mathematic circuits of the modern

Through huts, through Harlem, through jails and pews
Through the on park and the trash on vine
Through and the deep, deep heart of Dixie blue
Through savage progress the jungle line

In a low-cut blouse she the beer
Rousseau paints a flower behind her ear
cannibals of shuck and jive
They'll eat a working girl her alive

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

The jungle line, the line
in a ritual of sound and time
Floating, on the air-conditioned wind
And for a taste of something smuggled in

Pretty women funneled valves and smoke
Coy and bitchy, and fine
And charging elephants and chanting boats
Charging, chanting down the line

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

And skin and ivory birds
Go steaming up to vines
They go steaming up to Brooklyn
Steaming, steaming, up the jungle line