Luyện nghe bài hát Wild Billy's Circus Story

The machinist his Ferris 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 sword blade
town's on the shortwave

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

And a press roll drummer go, ballerina to-and-fro, up on that tightrope
With a blast, lightnin' flash, movin' fast through the tent, Mars-bent
He's gonna miss his fall, oh, God the human cannonball
And the flyin' Zambinis watch Margarita do her twist
And the ringmaster gets the crowd to count 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 pants, a lonely face, a crazy grin
Runnin' home to some Ohio town
Jesus, send sweet women to save all your clowns

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

And the man Samson 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 wheel and turns like it ain't ever gonna stop
And the circus boss over and whispers into the little boy's ear
"Hey, son, you to try the big top?
All aboard, Nebraska's our stop"