Luyện nghe bài hát The Jungle Line

Rousseau walks on trumpet
Safaris to the heart of all that
I bars and girders, through wires and pipes
The mathematic of the modern nights

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

In a blouse she brings the beer
Rousseau a jungle flower behind her ear
Those cannibals of and jive
eat a working girl like her alive

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

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

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

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

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