Luyện nghe bài hát The Jungle Line

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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