Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

I things were always kinda quiet around Putnam County
shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts of the 2-lane
That was out like an asphalt dance floor
all the old timers in bib jeans and store bought boots
Were hunkerin' down in the dirt to lie their lives
And the places that been
And they suck on Coca Colas and be spittin' days
Until the moon was a stray dog on the and
And the taverns would be swollen the naked eye of 2 A.M.

And the Stratocaster slung over the Burger meister Beer
Swizzle legs jackknifed over naughahyde stools
And the hazel spread out over the linoleum floors
Pedal pushers stretched out midriff bulge
And the coiffed brunette over Maybelline eyes
Prince Machiavelli, Estee Lauder, smells so sweet
And I elbowed up at the counter mixed feelings over mixed drinks
As Bubba and the Roadmasters in pool hall concentration
And, and their brows to cover the entire
Hank Williams songbook you like it not

And the Old register was singing to the tune of
57 dollars and 57
And then its last call, one more game of 8
Bernice will be the chairs on the tables
Someone in say "Hey man, anyone got
Any Cables, is that a 6 or 12 volt?"
And all the in town would toss 'em down
And claim to fame as stomped their feet
Yeah, boastin' about able to get more ass than a toilet seat

And the GMC's and the Straight 8 Fords were and wheezin'
And they as they tossed the gravel underneath the fenders
Weave home a wet, anaconda of a 2-lane
Tire and a crowbars a-rattlin', with a tool box and a pony saddle
You're grinding gears, shiftin' first
Yeah and that tranny's just gettin' worse
With the melodies of 'See ya laters' and on carburettors
Talkin' shop about to loan and palominos and strawberry roans

See you tomorrow, to the Mrs.
With money to and goodnight kisses
As the radio out Charlie Rich
Man and he sure can that son of a bitch
And you weave home, yeah, home
Leavin' the little joint in the dark, warm, narcotic American night
Beneath a pin cushion sky, it's home to and honey

Gotta startup the Ford, yeah, your lunch money's right over
On the drainin' board, and the toilet's
Ah, shake the handle and the telephone's ringin'
It's Mrs Randal and where the hell are my sandals?
do you mean the dog chewed up my left foot?
With the porcelain and the glass swans
Staring down the knick knack shelf
And the parent permission slips for the kids' trips
And a pair of scraping across the shag carpet

And the impending of first light
And it that behind a weeping marquee in downtown Putnam
And they'd be up any minute now
Just like a bastard amber, velveeta cab
On a rainy and be blowin' its horn, in every window in town