Luyện nghe bài hát The Jungle Line

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

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

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

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

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

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

And skin and ivory birds
Go steaming up to vines
They go steaming up to Bridge
Steaming, steaming, steaming up the jungle