Luyện nghe bài hát Wild Billy's Circus Story

The machinist climbs his wheel like a braid
And the fire-eater's lyin' in a of sweat, victim of the heat wave
Behind the tent, the hired hand tightens his legs on the swallower's blade
Circus on the shortwave

Well, the runway lies like a great false dawn
Fat lady, big mama, Missy Bimbo in her chair and yawns
And the lies in his cage sniffin' popcorn
And the licks his fingers and suffers Missy Bimbo's scorn
town's been born

And a press drummer go, ballerina to-and-fro, cartwheelin' up on that tightrope
a cannon blast, lightnin' flash, movin' fast through the tent, Mars-bent
He's gonna miss his fall, oh, God save the cannonball
And the flyin' Zambinis watch Margarita do her neck
And the gets the crowd to count along: 95, 96, 97

A ragged suitcase in his hand, he steals away from the circus grounds
And the highway's by the carnival sounds
They dance like a great ghost on the wind
A man in baggy pants, a face, a crazy grin
home to some small Ohio town
Jesus, some sweet women to save all your clowns

And Boy dances like a monkey on barbed wire
And the romances with a junkie, she's got a flat tire
And now the elephants dance real funky and the band plays a jungle fire
Circus town's on the live

And the man Samson lifts the midget, little Tiny Tim, up on his shoulders, way up
And him on down the midway, past the kids, past the sailors, to his dimly lit trailer
And the Ferris wheel turns and turns it ain't ever gonna stop
And the circus boss leans and whispers into the little boy's ear
"Hey, son, you want to try the big
All aboard, our next stop"