Luyện nghe bài hát Audobon

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

Now my daddy was a lovin' man
He stood six-foot-seven, had big ol'
He'd lost two fingers in a chainsaw but he could play the violin
And Mom played piana, just the keys in the
And Dad played a on his three-fingered fiddle
'Cause that's all there was to do back folks, except ta go downtown 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, a night I'd lay awake
A-waitin' for a distant station
Just a-settin' and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' that fry.

Well, I listened to and Tulsa and Dallas
And City gave my ear a callus
And never 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 friends, in care 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 Dees
There was all over them windowsills
"If the Devil don't get ya, then Roosevelt will"
And "The bank don't no beer, and we don't cash no checks."

Now them truckers never about nothin' but haulin'
And the four-letter words was appallin'
They thought them home-town was nothin' but toys for their amusement.
Chevys and Macks and big ol' stacks
They's complainin' 'bout their livers an' backs
But was fast-livin', strung-out, truck-drivin' 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 name was Mavis Davis
Yeah, she'd 'em a coffee, then she'd bat her eyes
Then she'd listen to 'em tell 'er some big fat
Then she'd ask 'em how the wife and 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 couple a' Cub tryin' ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tent
no proposition that she couldn't handle
Next ta her, could 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 on glass
A-stompin' on in, leavin' tracks all over the Montgomery linoleum
Yeah, they'd them counters and kick them stools
They's always pickin' fights with the local
But one look at Mavis, and turn into a bunch a' tomcats

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

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