Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

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

Now my was a music lovin' man
He six-foot-seven, had big ol' hands
He'd two fingers 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 there 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 dog-goned hot I had to wet the bed in the summer to keep cool.
Yeah, a night I'd lay awake
A-waitin' for a distant break
Just a-settin' and an' a-lettin' that radio fry.

Well, I listened to Nashville and and Dallas
And Oklahoma City gave my ear a
And I'll forget them announcers at three A.M.
They'd come on an' say "Friends, there's many a 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 you really got the hard-core sound
Yeah, a place where the truckers used ta stop on their way to Dees
was signs all over them windowsills
Like "If the 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 talked nothin' but haulin'
And the four-letter was really appallin'
thought them home-town gals was nothin' but toys for their amusement.
Rode Chevys and and big ol' stacks
They's always 'bout their livers an' backs
But they was fast-livin', strung-out, son of a guns

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

Now Mavis had all of her in a row
Weighed ninety-eight pounds; put on quite a
ya of a couple a' Cub Scouts tryin' ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tent
There's no proposition that she handle
Next ta her, nothin' could hold a
Not a hell of a lot upstairs, but there on down, Disneyland!

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

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