Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

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

Now my daddy was a lovin' man
He six-foot-seven, had big ol' hands
He'd lost two fingers in a chainsaw but he could still 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 watch

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

Well, I listened to Nashville and Tulsa and
And Oklahoma gave my ear a callus
And never forget them announcers at three A.M.
They'd come on an' say "Friends, many a soul who needs us
"So send them letters an' cards ta
"That's friends, in care a' Del Rio, Texas."

But the place I remember, on the edge a'
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 them windowsills
Like "If the Devil get ya, then Roosevelt will"
And "The bank sell no beer, and we don't cash no checks."

Now them truckers talked about nothin' but haulin'
And the four-letter words was appallin'
thought them home-town gals was nothin' but toys for their amusement.
Rode Chevys and Macks and big ol'
They's always complainin' 'bout livers an' backs
But they was fast-livin', strung-out, son of a guns

Now the gal tables was really classy
Had a motor on a fairly new chassis
And she knew how to handle 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
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 put on quite a show
Remind ya of a a' Cub Scouts tryin' ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tent
There's no that she couldn't handle
Next ta her, nothin' hold a candle
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 and kick them stools
always pickin' 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 just a kid, four foot high
But I never forgot that lesson an' pickin' and singin', the way
Yeah, walkin', talkin' truck stop blues
back 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 Home Filler-up An' Keep On
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' On A-Truckin' Cafe
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' On A-Truckin' Cafe