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 feed in nineteen-thirty.
Had a sign, said "Squealer Feeds"
And the bus came through when they felt the
And they at a place there in town called The Old Home Cafe

Now my was a music lovin' man
He six-foot-seven, had big ol' hands
He'd lost two fingers in a chainsaw but he could play the violin
And Mom played piana, 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, ta go downtown and watch haircuts

So I was raised on Dust tunes, you see
Had a radio an' no TV
It was so hot I had to wet the bed in the summer just to keep cool.
Yeah, a night I'd lay awake
A-waitin' for a station break
Just and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' that radio fry.

Well, I listened to Nashville and and Dallas
And Oklahoma City gave my ear a
And never forget them announcers at three A.M.
They'd come on an' say "Friends, there's many a soul who us
"So send letters an' cards ta Jesus
"That's friends, in care a' Del Rio, Texas."

But the place I remember, on the a' town
Was the where you really got the hard-core sound
Yeah, a where the truckers used ta stop on their way to Dees Moins
There was signs all over 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 them truckers never talked nothin' but haulin'
And the words was really appallin'
They thought them home-town 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 tables was really classy
Had a motor on a fairly new chassis
And she how to handle them truckers; name was Mavis Davis
Yeah, pour 'em a coffee, then she'd bat her eyes
Then she'd listen to 'em 'er some big fat lies
Then she'd ask 'em how the wife and kids was, back in Joplin?

Now had all of her ducks in a row
ninety-eight pounds; put on quite a show
Remind ya of a couple a' Cub Scouts 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 hell of a lot upstairs, but from on down, Disneyland!

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

Well, never forget them days gone by
I's just a kid, 'bout four foot
But I forgot that lesson an' pickin' and singin', the country 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 An' Keep On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' Keep On
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' On A-Truckin' Cafe
Oh, the Old Filler-up 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