Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

Well, I was born in a town Audubon
Southwest Iowa, where it oughta been
Twenty-three houses, saloons,
And a mill in nineteen-thirty.
Had a neon sign, "Squealer Feeds"
And the bus came through they felt the need
And they stopped at a place there in town called The Old Cafe

Now my was a music lovin' man
He six-foot-seven, had big ol' hands
He'd lost two fingers in a chainsaw but he still play the violin
And Mom piana, just the keys in the middle
And Dad played a storm on his three-fingered
'Cause that's all there was to do back there folks, except ta go downtown and haircuts

So I was raised on Bowl tunes, you see
Had a radio an' no TV
It was so hot I had to wet the bed in the summer just to keep cool.
Yeah, a night I'd lay awake
for a distant station break
Just a-settin' and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' radio fry.

Well, I listened to Nashville and and Dallas
And Oklahoma City gave my ear a
And I'll never forget them announcers at A.M.
come on an' say "Friends, there's many a soul who needs us
"So send letters an' cards ta Jesus
"That's J-E-S-U-S friends, in a' Del Rio, Texas."

But the I remember, on the edge a' town
Was the place where you really got the hard-core
Yeah, a place where the truckers used ta stop on their way to Dees
There was signs all over them
Like "If the Devil don't get ya, Roosevelt will"
And "The don't sell no beer, and we don't cash no checks."

Now them never talked about nothin' but haulin'
And the words was really appallin'
They thought them home-town gals was nothin' but for their amusement.
Rode and Macks and big ol' stacks
They's always complainin' their livers an' backs
But they was fast-livin', strung-out, truck-drivin' son of a

Now the gal tables was really classy
Had a motor on a fairly new chassis
And she knew how to handle them name was Mavis Davis
Yeah, she'd pour 'em a coffee, then she'd bat her
she'd listen to 'em tell 'er some big fat lies
Then she'd ask 'em how the wife and was, back there in Joplin?

Now Mavis had all of her in a row
Weighed ninety-eight pounds; put on a show
ya of a couple a' Cub Scouts tryin' ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tent
There's no that she couldn't handle
Next ta her, nothin' could hold a
Not a hell of a lot upstairs, but from on down, Disneyland!

Now the truckers, on the hand, was really crass
They remind ya of a-scratchin' on glass
A-stompin' on in, leavin' all over the Montgomery Ward linoleum
Yeah, they'd pound them counters and them stools
They's always pickin' with the local fools
But one look at Mavis, and they'd turn into a bunch a'

Well, I'll never forget them days by
I's a kid, 'bout four foot high
But I never forgot that lesson an' pickin' and singin', the way
Yeah, them walkin', talkin' truck blues
back ta life in seventy-two
As "The Old Home An' Keep On A-Truckin' Cafe"

Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' Keep On
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' Keep On
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' On A-Truckin' Cafe
Oh, the Old Home An' Keep On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home An' Keep On A-Truckin' Cafe