Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

Well, I was born in a town Audubon
Southwest Iowa, right it oughta been
houses, fourteen saloons,
And a feed in nineteen-thirty.
Had a sign, said "Squealer Feeds"
And the bus through when they felt the need
And they stopped at a place there in called The Old Home Cafe

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

So I was raised on Dust tunes, you see
Had a six-tube an' no TV
It was so dog-goned hot I had to wet the bed in the summer to keep cool.
Yeah, a night I'd lay awake
A-waitin' for a distant break
Just a-settin' and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' that fry.

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

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

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

Now the gal waitin' was really classy
Had a rebuilt motor on a 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
Then listen to 'em tell 'er some big fat lies
she'd ask 'em how the wife and kids was, back there in Joplin?

Now Mavis had all of her in a row
Weighed ninety-eight put on quite a show
Remind ya of a a' Cub Scouts tryin' ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tent
There's no proposition that she handle
ta her, nothin' could hold a candle
Not a hell of a lot upstairs, but there on down, Disneyland!

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

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

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