Luyện nghe bài hát The Jungle Line

Rousseau on trumpet paths
Safaris to the heart of all jazz
I bars and girders, through wires and pipes
The circuits of the modern nights

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

In a low-cut blouse she brings the
Rousseau a jungle flower behind her ear
Those cannibals of and jive
eat a working girl like her alive

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

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

Pretty funneled through valves and smoke
Coy and bitchy, wild and
And elephants and chanting slaving boats
Charging, down the jungle line

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

And skin and ivory birds
Go steaming up to Rousseau's
They go up to Brooklyn Bridge
Steaming, steaming, steaming up the jungle