Luyện nghe bài hát The Jungle Line

Rousseau on trumpet paths
Safaris to the of all that jazz
Through I and girders, through wires and pipes
The mathematic of the modern nights

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

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

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

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

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

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

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