Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

Well, I was born in a called Audubon
Southwest Iowa, right where it oughta
Twenty-three houses, saloons,
And a mill in nineteen-thirty.
Had a neon sign, "Squealer Feeds"
And the bus came through when they the need
And stopped at a place 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 in a chainsaw but he could still play the violin
And Mom piana, just the keys in the middle
And Dad a storm on his three-fingered 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 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 break
Just and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' that radio fry.

Well, I listened to Nashville and Tulsa and
And City gave my ear a callus
And I'll forget them announcers at three A.M.
They'd on an' say "Friends, there's many a soul who needs us
"So send them letters an' 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 truckers ta stop on their way to Dees Moins
There was signs all over 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 never talked about nothin' but
And the four-letter was really appallin'
They thought them gals was nothin' but toys for their amusement.
Rode Chevys and Macks and big ol'
They's always complainin' 'bout their livers an'
But they was fast-livin', strung-out, son of a guns

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

Now had all of her ducks in a row
Weighed ninety-eight pounds; put on a show
ya of a couple a' Cub Scouts tryin' ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tent
There's no that she couldn't 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 fingernails a-scratchin' on
A-stompin' on in, leavin' tracks all over the Ward linoleum
Yeah, they'd pound them counters and kick stools
They's always pickin' with the local fools
But one look at Mavis, and they'd turn a bunch a' tomcats

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