Luyện nghe bài hát Otto Tisling

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

Titsling, inventor and kraut,
had nothing to get very up about.
His inventions failures, his future seemed bleak.
He fled to the opera at twice a week.

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

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

For Otto Titsling had his quest:
to lift and mold the female
to the small ones to the sky;
to the big ones high and dry!

Every night sweat and snort
searching for the support.
He some string and paper clips.
Hey! He tried his own two lips!

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

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

But did Otto know,
at the of his greatest triumph,
lurking under the bed
was other than the very worst
of the patent thieves,
DeBrassiere.
And Phil was the scene
with a deal of interest!

Later that night, our Brun Hilda slept,
into the wardrobe softly crept.
He fumbled knickers and corsets galore,
'til he Otto's titsling and he ran out the door.

Crying, "Oh, my god! What joy! 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 is pointedly clear:
Do you buy a or do you buy a brassiere?

"Ohhh! you!"