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 of the modern nights

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

In a blouse she brings the beer
Rousseau paints a jungle behind her ear
cannibals of shuck and jive
They'll eat a working like her alive

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

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

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

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

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