Luyện nghe bài hát Wild Billy's Circus Story

The machinist his Ferris wheel like 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 swallower's
Circus on the shortwave

Well, the runway lies ahead like a great dawn
Fat lady, big mama, Missy Bimbo sits in her chair and
And the lies in his cage sniffin' popcorn
And the midget licks his fingers and Missy Bimbo's scorn
Circus town's born

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

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

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

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