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

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

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

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

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

Pretty women funneled through valves and
Coy and bitchy, wild and
And charging and chanting slaving boats
Charging, chanting down the line

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

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