Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

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

Now my daddy was a 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 played piana, just the keys in the
And Dad played a 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 just to cool.
Yeah, many's a night I'd lay
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 City gave my ear a callus
And I'll never forget them at three A.M.
They'd come on an' say "Friends, there's a soul who needs us
"So send them letters an' cards ta
"That's friends, in care a' Del Rio, Texas."

But the place I remember, on the a' town
Was the place where you got the hard-core sound
Yeah, a place where the truckers used ta stop on way to Dees Moins
There was signs all over them
Like "If the Devil don't get ya, 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 gals was but toys for their amusement.
Rode Chevys and and big ol' stacks
They's always complainin' 'bout livers an' backs
But was fast-livin', strung-out, truck-drivin' son of a guns

Now the gal waitin' tables was classy
Had a rebuilt on a fairly new chassis
And she knew how to handle them truckers; name was Mavis
Yeah, she'd pour 'em a coffee, she'd bat her eyes
Then she'd listen to 'em tell 'er some big fat
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 put on quite a show
Remind ya of a couple a' Cub tryin' ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tent
There's no proposition that she couldn't
Next ta her, nothin' could hold a
Not a hell of a lot upstairs, but from on down, Disneyland!

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

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

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