Luyện nghe bài hát The Jungle Line

Rousseau walks on paths
to the heart of all that jazz
Through I bars and girders, 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 cuts the jungle line

In a low-cut she brings the beer
Rousseau paints a jungle behind her ear
Those of shuck and jive
eat a working girl like her alive

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

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

Pretty funneled through valves and smoke
Coy and bitchy, wild and
And charging and chanting slaving boats
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 like mouthpiece spit

And metal skin and ivory
Go steaming up to vines
They go steaming up to Bridge
Steaming, steaming, steaming up the line