Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

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

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

So I was on Dust 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
A-waitin' for a distant break
Just a-settin' and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' radio fry.

Well, I to Nashville and Tulsa and Dallas
And City gave my ear a callus
And never forget them announcers at three A.M.
come on an' say "Friends, there's many a soul who needs us
"So send them letters an' cards ta
"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 over windowsills
Like "If the Devil don't get ya, then will"
And "The bank don't sell no beer, and we cash no checks."

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

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

Now had all of her ducks in a row
Weighed ninety-eight pounds; put on a show
Remind ya of a couple a' Cub Scouts ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tent
There's no proposition that she couldn't
Next ta her, nothin' hold a candle
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 fingernails on glass
A-stompin' on in, leavin' tracks all the Montgomery Ward linoleum
Yeah, they'd them counters and kick them stools
They's always fights with the local fools
But one look at Mavis, and they'd turn a bunch a' tomcats

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