Luyện nghe bài hát The Jungle Line

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's a poppy on a soldier's tomb
There's a poppy in a dressing room
Poppy poison, tourniquet
It slithers away on brass like spit

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