Luyện nghe bài hát Audobon

Well, I was in a town called Audubon
Iowa, right where it oughta been
Twenty-three houses, saloons,
And a feed 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 daddy was a lovin' man
He six-foot-seven, had big ol' hands
He'd lost two fingers in a chainsaw but he still play the violin
And Mom played piana, just the in the middle
And Dad played a on his three-fingered fiddle
'Cause that's all there was to do back there folks, 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 station break
a-settin' and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' that radio fry.

Well, I listened to and Tulsa and Dallas
And Oklahoma City gave my ear a
And I'll forget them announcers at three A.M.
come on an' say "Friends, there's many a soul who needs 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 edge a'
Was the place 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 get ya, then Roosevelt will"
And "The bank don't no beer, and we don't cash no checks."

Now truckers never talked about nothin' but haulin'
And the four-letter words was really
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 motor on a fairly new
And she knew how to handle them truckers; name was Davis
Yeah, pour 'em a coffee, then she'd bat her eyes
Then she'd listen to 'em '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 ninety-eight put on quite a show
Remind ya of a couple a' Cub Scouts tryin' ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup
There's no proposition that she couldn't
ta her, nothin' could hold a candle
Not a of a lot upstairs, but from there on down, Disneyland!

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

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

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