Luyện nghe bài hát Wild Billy's Circus Story

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

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

And a press roll drummer go, to-and-fro, cartwheelin' up on that tightrope
With a cannon blast, lightnin' flash, movin' through the tent, Mars-bent
He's gonna his fall, oh, God save the human 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 silently away from the circus
And the highway's by the carnival sounds
They dance like a greasepaint ghost on the wind
A man in baggy pants, a lonely face, a crazy
Runnin' home to some small Ohio
Jesus, send some sweet to save all your clowns

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

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