Luyện nghe bài hát The Jungle Line

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

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

In a blouse she brings the beer
paints a jungle flower behind her ear
Those cannibals of and jive
They'll eat a girl like her alive

his hard-edged eye and his steady 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 jungle

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

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

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

And metal skin and birds
Go steaming up to vines
They go steaming up to Brooklyn
Steaming, steaming, steaming up the line