Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

Well, I was born in a called Audubon
Southwest Iowa, right where it oughta
Twenty-three houses, saloons,
And a feed in nineteen-thirty.
Had a neon sign, "Squealer Feeds"
And the bus came through when they the need
And they stopped at a place there in 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 chainsaw but he still play the violin
And Mom played piana, just the keys in the
And Dad a storm on his three-fingered fiddle
'Cause 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
A-waitin' for a distant break
Just a-settin' and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' that fry.

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

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

Now them never talked about nothin' but haulin'
And the four-letter words was appallin'
They thought them home-town gals was 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' was really classy
Had a rebuilt on a fairly new chassis
And she knew how to handle them truckers; name was Davis
Yeah, she'd pour 'em a coffee, she'd bat her eyes
Then listen to 'em tell 'er some big fat lies
Then she'd ask 'em how the wife and kids was, back there in

Now had all of her ducks in a row
Weighed pounds; put on quite a show
Remind ya of a couple a' Cub Scouts ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tent
no proposition that she couldn't handle
Next ta her, nothin' could a candle
Not a hell of a lot upstairs, but there 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 Montgomery linoleum
Yeah, they'd pound counters and kick them stools
always pickin' fights with the local fools
But one look at Mavis, and turn into a bunch a' tomcats

Well, I'll never them days gone by
I's a kid, 'bout four foot high
But I never forgot lesson an' pickin' and singin', the country way
Yeah, walkin', talkin' truck stop 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 Home Filler-up An' Keep On
Oh, the Old Filler-up An' Keep On A-Truckin' Cafe
Oh, the Old Home An' Keep On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Filler-up An' Keep On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' On A-Truckin' Cafe