Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

Well, I was born in a town called
Iowa, right 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 when they the need
And they stopped at a place in town 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 piana, just the keys in the middle
And Dad played a storm on his three-fingered
that's all there was to do back there folks, except ta go downtown and watch haircuts

So I was raised on Bowl 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 station
Just a-settin' and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' that 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.
They'd come on an' say "Friends, there's many a soul who us
"So send letters an' cards ta Jesus
"That's friends, in care a' Del Rio, Texas."

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

Now them truckers never talked nothin' but haulin'
And the four-letter words was appallin'
They them home-town gals was nothin' but toys 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 waitin' tables was classy
Had a rebuilt on a fairly new chassis
And she how to handle them truckers; name was Mavis Davis
Yeah, she'd pour 'em a coffee, then bat her eyes
Then listen to 'em tell 'er some big fat lies
Then ask 'em how the wife and kids was, back there in Joplin?

Now had all of her ducks in a row
Weighed pounds; put on quite a show
Remind ya of a couple a' Cub tryin' ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tent
There's no proposition she couldn't handle
Next ta her, nothin' could hold a
Not a hell of a lot upstairs, but there on down, Disneyland!

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

Well, never forget them days gone by
I's just a kid, 'bout four foot
But I never forgot that an' pickin' and singin', the country way
Yeah, them walkin', talkin' truck blues
Came back ta 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 Filler-up An' Keep On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Filler-up An' Keep 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 Filler-up An' Keep On Cafe