Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

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 through when they felt the need
And they stopped at a place there in town 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 piana, just the keys in the middle
And Dad played a storm on his fiddle
'Cause that's all was to do back there folks, except ta go downtown and watch haircuts

So I was raised on Dust tunes, you see
Had a radio 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 I'd lay awake
for a distant station break
Just a-settin' and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' that fry.

Well, I listened to Nashville and Tulsa and
And Oklahoma City my ear a callus
And never forget them announcers at three A.M.
They'd come on an' say "Friends, many a soul who needs us
"So send them letters an' 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 sound
Yeah, a place where the truckers used ta stop on their way to Moins
was signs all over them windowsills
Like "If the Devil don't get ya, then will"
And "The bank don't no beer, and we don't cash no checks."

Now truckers never talked about nothin' but haulin'
And the four-letter words was really
They thought home-town gals was nothin' but toys for their amusement.
Chevys and Macks 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 waitin' tables was really
Had a motor on a fairly new chassis
And she knew how to them truckers; name was Mavis Davis
Yeah, she'd pour 'em a coffee, she'd bat her eyes
Then she'd to 'em tell 'er some big fat lies
Then she'd ask 'em how the wife and kids was, there in Joplin?

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

Now the truckers, on the other hand, was crass
They remind ya of fingernails on glass
A-stompin' on in, tracks all over the Montgomery Ward linoleum
Yeah, they'd pound them counters and them stools
They's always 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' and singin', the country way
Yeah, them walkin', talkin' truck stop
Came back ta life in
As "The Old Home Filler-up An' 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
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' On A-Truckin' Cafe