Luyện nghe bài hát The Jungle Line

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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