Luyện nghe bài hát Otto Tisling

"This next story is a story.
It concerns two of my subjects:
industrial theft . . . t-ts!
Mmm, what a combo! This is the . . .
The inventor of the foundation garment
that we women wear today was a scientist
and opera lover by the of Otto Titsling!
is a true story.
His name was Titsling.
What happened to Otto Titsling happen to a schnauzer.
It's a very sad story. I feel I have to it with you."

Titsling, inventor and kraut,
had to get very worked up about.
His inventions were failures, his future bleak.
He fled to the opera at least a week.

One at the opera he saw an Aida
who's were so big they would often impede her.
Bug-eyed he watched her fall the pit,
in by the weight of those terrible t-ts.

Oh, my god! she blows!
Aerodynamically this was a mess.
Otto eyeballed the diva comatose amongst the reeds,
and he felt the fire of inspiration
flood his soul. He knew he had to do!
He ran back to his
where he futzed and and futzed.

For Titsling had found his quest:
to and mold the female breast;
to point the ones to the sky;
to keep the big ones and dry!

Every night he'd sweat and
for the right support.
He tried some string and clips.
Hey! He tried his own two lips!

Well, he stitched and he
and he slaved and he
finally one night, in the wee hours of morning,
Otto from his workbench triumphant.
Yes! He had invented the first
over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. Hooray!

but ecstatic he ran
down the street to the diva's
the prototype in his hot little hand.
Now, the diva did not want to try the thing on.
But, after initial misgivings,
she did.
And the sigh of relief issued forth
from the diva's
was so loud it was mistaken by some
to be the early of the Siroccan Winds
would often roll through the Schwarzwald
a vengeance!
Ahhhhh-i!

But did Otto know,
at the of his greatest triumph,
under the diva's bed
was none other than the worst
of the patent thieves,
DeBrassiere.
And Phil was the scene
with a deal of interest!

Later night, while our Brun Hilda slept,
into the wardrobe softly crept.
He fumbled through and corsets galore,
'til he found titsling and he ran out the door.

Crying, "Oh, my god! joy! What bliss!
I'm make me a million from this!
woman in the world will wanna buy one.
I can have all the goods in Taiwan."

"Oh, you!"

The result of this swindle is pointedly
Do you buy a or do you buy a brassiere?

"Ohhh! you!"