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 there in called The Old Home Cafe

Now my was a music lovin' man
He stood six-foot-seven, had big ol'
He'd lost two fingers in a but he could still play the violin
And Mom played piana, just the 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 dog-goned hot I had to wet the bed in the summer to keep cool.
Yeah, many's a night I'd lay
A-waitin' for a distant station
a-settin' and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' that radio fry.

Well, I to Nashville and Tulsa and Dallas
And Oklahoma City my ear a callus
And I'll never them announcers at three A.M.
They'd come on an' say "Friends, there's a soul who needs us
"So send letters an' cards ta Jesus
"That's J-E-S-U-S friends, in a' Del Rio, Texas."

But the I remember, on the edge a' town
Was the place where you really got the hard-core
Yeah, a place where the truckers used ta on their way to Dees Moins
There was signs all them windowsills
"If the Devil don't get ya, then Roosevelt will"
And "The bank don't sell no beer, and we cash no checks."

Now them truckers never talked about nothin' but
And the four-letter words was really
They thought them home-town gals was nothin' but toys for amusement.
Chevys and Macks and big ol' stacks
They's complainin' 'bout their livers an' backs
But they was fast-livin', strung-out, truck-drivin' son of a

Now the gal waitin' tables was really
Had a rebuilt motor on a new chassis
And she knew how to them truckers; name was Mavis Davis
Yeah, she'd pour 'em a coffee, then she'd bat her
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 pounds; put on quite a show
Remind ya of a couple a' Cub Scouts tryin' ta set up a Sears, pup tent
There's no proposition that she 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
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 they'd turn into a a' tomcats

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

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