Luyện nghe bài hát Audobon

Well, I was born in a called Audubon
Southwest Iowa, where it oughta been
houses, fourteen saloons,
And a mill 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 was a music lovin' man
He stood six-foot-seven, had big ol'
He'd lost two fingers in a chainsaw but he could still the violin
And Mom played piana, just the in the middle
And Dad played a storm on his three-fingered
'Cause that's all there was to do back there folks, 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
for a distant station break
Just a-settin' and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' radio fry.

Well, I to Nashville and Tulsa and Dallas
And Oklahoma gave my ear a callus
And I'll never forget them announcers at A.M.
They'd come on an' say "Friends, 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 really got the hard-core
Yeah, a place where the truckers used ta stop on way to Dees Moins
was signs all over them windowsills
Like "If the Devil get ya, then Roosevelt will"
And "The bank sell no beer, and we don't cash no checks."

Now them truckers talked about nothin' but haulin'
And the four-letter words was appallin'
They thought them gals was nothin' but toys 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, truck-drivin' son of a

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

Now had all of her ducks in a row
Weighed pounds; put on quite a show
Remind ya of a a' Cub Scouts 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 from on down, Disneyland!

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

Well, I'll forget them days gone by
I's just a kid, 'bout foot high
But I never that lesson an' pickin' and singin', the country way
Yeah, them walkin', talkin' truck 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' Keep On
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' Keep On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Filler-up An' Keep On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home An' Keep On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home An' Keep On A-Truckin' Cafe