Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

I guess things were always kinda quiet Putnam County
Kinda shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts of the
That was stretched out an asphalt dance floor
Where all the old timers in bib jeans and store bought
Were down in the dirt to lie about their lives
And the places that they'd
And they suck on Coca Colas and be spittin' days
Until the was a stray dog on the ridge and
And the taverns would be swollen the naked eye of 2 A.M.

And the Stratocaster slung over the Burger Beer Guts
Swizzle stick legs jackknifed naughahyde stools
And the witch hazel spread out the linoleum floors
Pedal pushers out over midriff bulge
And the coiffed curls over Maybelline eyes
Wearing Prince Machiavelli, Estee Lauder, smells so
And I up at the counter with mixed feelings over mixed drinks
As and the Roadmasters moaned in pool hall concentration
And, and knit their to cover the entire
Hank Williams songbook you like it not

And the Old National was singing to the tune of
57 dollars and 57
And then its last call, one more of 8 ball
Bernice will be putting the on the tables
Someone come in say "Hey man, got
Any Cables, is that a 6 or 12 volt?"
And all the studs in town would toss 'em
And claim to fame as they their feet
Yeah, boastin' being able to get more ass than a toilet seat

And the and the Straight 8 Fords were coughin' and wheezin'
And they perculated as they tossed the gravel the fenders
Weave home a wet, slick anaconda of a
Tire irons and a a-rattlin', with a tool box and a pony saddle
You're grinding gears, into first
and that goddamn tranny's just gettin' worse
With the melodies of 'See ya and screwdrivers on carburettors
Talkin' shop about money to loan and palominos and strawberry

See you tomorrow, to the Mrs.
With to borrow and goodnight kisses
As the spit out Charlie Rich
Man and he sure can sing son of a bitch
And you weave home, yeah, weavin'
the little joint winking in the dark, warm, narcotic American night
Beneath a pin sky, it's home to toast and honey

Gotta startup the Ford, yeah, your money's right over there
On the drainin' board, and the toilet's
Ah, Christ shake the handle and the telephone's
It's Mrs Randal and where the are my goddamn sandals?
What do you the dog chewed up my left foot?
With the poodles and the glass swans
Staring down from the knack shelf
And the parent permission slips for the kids' trips
And a pair of Muckalucks scraping the shag carpet

And the squint of first light
And it lurked behind a weeping marquee in downtown Putnam
And they'd be up any minute now
Just like a bastard amber, velveeta cab
On a rainy corner and be blowin' its horn, in every in town