Luyện nghe bài hát The Jungle Line

Rousseau walks on paths
to the heart of all that jazz
Through I bars and girders, through and pipes
The mathematic circuits of the nights

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

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

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

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

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

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

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