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 when they felt the need
And they stopped at a place there in town called The Old Cafe

Now my daddy was a music man
He stood six-foot-seven, had big ol'
He'd lost two fingers in a chainsaw but he could 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 back there folks, ta go downtown and watch haircuts

So I was raised on Bowl 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, 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 to Nashville and Tulsa and Dallas
And Oklahoma City my ear a callus
And I'll never forget them at three A.M.
They'd come on an' say "Friends, many a soul who needs 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 place where you got the hard-core sound
Yeah, a place where the truckers used ta stop on their way to Dees
There was signs all them windowsills
Like "If the don't get ya, then Roosevelt will"
And "The bank don't sell no beer, and we cash no checks."

Now them truckers talked about nothin' but haulin'
And the words was really appallin'
They thought them gals was nothin' but toys for their amusement.
Rode Chevys and and big ol' stacks
They's always complainin' their livers an' backs
But they was fast-livin', strung-out, truck-drivin' son of a

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, then she'd bat her
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 Mavis had all of her in a row
Weighed ninety-eight put on quite a show
Remind ya of a a' Cub Scouts tryin' ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tent
There's no proposition that she couldn't
Next ta her, nothin' hold a candle
Not a hell of a lot upstairs, but there on down, Disneyland!

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

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

Oh, the Old Home 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 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