Luyện nghe bài hát Audobon

Well, I was born in a town called
Southwest Iowa, right it oughta been
Twenty-three houses, saloons,
And a feed 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 but he could still play the violin
And Mom piana, just the keys in the middle
And Dad played a storm on his fiddle
'Cause that's all there was to do back there folks, except ta go and watch haircuts

So I was raised on Bowl 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 I'd lay awake
for a distant station break
Just a-settin' and a-wettin' an' that 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.
They'd come on an' say "Friends, there's many a soul who us
"So send them an' cards ta Jesus
"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 used ta stop on their way to Dees Moins
was signs all over them windowsills
Like "If the Devil don't get ya, Roosevelt will"
And "The bank don't no beer, and we don't 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 for their amusement.
Chevys and Macks and big ol' stacks
They's always complainin' 'bout their an' backs
But they was fast-livin', strung-out, son of a guns

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

Now Mavis had all of her in a row
Weighed ninety-eight pounds; put on quite a
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' could 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 a-scratchin' on glass
A-stompin' on in, leavin' tracks all over the Montgomery Ward
Yeah, they'd pound them counters and kick them
They's always pickin' fights with the local
But one look at Mavis, and they'd into a bunch a' tomcats

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

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