Luyện nghe bài hát Audobon

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

Now my daddy was a music man
He stood six-foot-seven, had big ol'
He'd lost two fingers in a chainsaw but he still play the violin
And Mom played piana, 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 downtown and haircuts

So I was raised on 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, many's a I'd lay awake
for a distant station break
Just a-settin' and an' a-lettin' that radio fry.

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

But the I remember, on the edge a' town
Was the place where you got the hard-core sound
Yeah, a place where the truckers used ta stop on 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 truckers never talked about nothin' but
And the four-letter words was really
thought them home-town gals was nothin' but toys for their amusement.
Rode Chevys and and big ol' stacks
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 them truckers; name was Mavis
Yeah, she'd pour 'em a coffee, she'd bat her eyes
Then she'd listen to 'em tell 'er big fat lies
Then she'd ask 'em how the wife and kids was, there in Joplin?

Now Mavis had all of her in a row
Weighed ninety-eight pounds; put on a show
Remind ya of a couple a' Cub Scouts tryin' ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup
There's no proposition that she handle
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
They remind ya of a-scratchin' on glass
on in, leavin' tracks all over the Montgomery Ward linoleum
Yeah, they'd pound them and kick them stools
They's always pickin' fights with the fools
But one look at Mavis, and they'd into a bunch a' tomcats

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

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