Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

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

Now my daddy was a lovin' man
He six-foot-seven, had big ol' hands
He'd lost two in a chainsaw but he could still play the violin
And Mom played piana, just the in the middle
And Dad played a on his three-fingered fiddle
that's all there was to do back there folks, except ta go downtown and watch haircuts

So I was raised on Dust 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, many's a I'd lay awake
for a distant station break
Just a-settin' and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' radio fry.

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

But the place I remember, on the edge a'
Was the place where you really got the hard-core
Yeah, a place where the truckers used ta stop on their way to Moins
There was signs all them windowsills
Like "If the Devil don't get ya, then will"
And "The bank don't sell no beer, and we cash no checks."

Now truckers never talked about nothin' but haulin'
And the four-letter words was really
They them home-town gals was nothin' but toys for their amusement.
Rode Chevys and Macks and big ol'
They's always complainin' 'bout their livers an'
But they was fast-livin', strung-out, truck-drivin' son of a

Now the gal waitin' tables was classy
Had a rebuilt on a fairly new chassis
And she knew how to handle them truckers; was Mavis Davis
Yeah, she'd pour 'em a coffee, then she'd bat her
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 ninety-eight 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 that she handle
Next ta her, nothin' could a candle
Not a of a lot upstairs, but from there on down, Disneyland!

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

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

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