Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

Well, I was born in a town called
Iowa, right where it oughta been
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 they stopped at a there 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 but he could still play the violin
And Mom played piana, just the keys in the
And Dad played a storm on his three-fingered
'Cause that's all there was to do back there folks, except ta go 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 just to cool.
Yeah, a night I'd lay awake
A-waitin' for a distant station
a-settin' and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' that radio fry.

Well, I listened to Nashville and Tulsa and
And Oklahoma City gave my ear a
And I'll never forget them announcers at A.M.
They'd on an' say "Friends, there's many a soul who needs us
"So send them an' cards ta Jesus
"That's J-E-S-U-S friends, in 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 used ta stop on their way to Moins
There was all over them windowsills
"If the Devil don't 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 was really appallin'
They thought them home-town was nothin' but toys for their amusement.
Rode Chevys and and big ol' stacks
They's complainin' 'bout their livers an' backs
But they was fast-livin', strung-out, son of a guns

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

Now Mavis had all of her in a row
Weighed ninety-eight pounds; put on quite a
Remind ya of a couple a' Cub tryin' ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tent
There's no proposition 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 crass
They remind ya of a-scratchin' on glass
on in, leavin' tracks all over the Montgomery Ward linoleum
Yeah, they'd pound counters and kick them stools
They's always pickin' fights the local fools
But one look at Mavis, and turn into a bunch a' tomcats

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

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