Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

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

And the slung over the Burger meister Beer Guts
stick legs jackknifed over naughahyde stools
And the witch hazel out over the linoleum floors
pushers stretched out over midriff bulge
And the brunette curls over Maybelline eyes
Wearing Prince Machiavelli, Lauder, smells so sweet
And I elbowed up at the counter with mixed over mixed drinks
As Bubba and the Roadmasters moaned in pool concentration
And, and knit brows to cover the entire
Williams songbook whether you like it not

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

And the GMC's and the Straight 8 Fords were coughin' and
And they perculated as they tossed the gravel underneath the
Weave home a wet, slick of a 2-lane
Tire irons and a crowbars a-rattlin', with a tool box and a saddle
grinding gears, shiftin' into first
Yeah and goddamn tranny's just gettin' worse
With the melodies of 'See ya laters' and screwdrivers on
Talkin' shop about money to loan and palominos and strawberry

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

Gotta the Ford, yeah, your lunch money's right over there
On the board, and the toilet's runnin'
Ah, Christ shake the and the telephone's ringin'
Mrs Randal and where the hell are my goddamn sandals?
What do you the dog chewed up my left foot?
With the poodles and the glass swans
down from the knick knack shelf
And the parent permission slips for the kids' trips
And a of Muckalucks scraping across the shag carpet

And the impending squint of light
And it that lurked behind a marquee in downtown Putnam
And they'd be pullin' up any now
Just like a bastard amber, yellow cab
On a rainy corner and be blowin' its horn, in window in town