Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

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

And the Stratocaster slung over the Burger meister Guts
Swizzle stick legs over naughahyde stools
And the hazel spread out over the linoleum floors
Pedal pushers stretched out over midriff
And the coiffed brunette 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 hall concentration
And, and knit brows to cover the entire
Hank Williams whether you like it not

And the Old National register was to the tune of
57 dollars and 57
And then its last call, one game of 8 ball
Bernice will be putting the chairs on the
Someone come in say "Hey man, got
Any Cables, is that a 6 or 12 volt?"
And all the studs in would toss 'em down
And to fame as they 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 coughin' and
And they as they tossed the gravel underneath the fenders
Weave home a wet, anaconda of a 2-lane
Tire irons and a crowbars a-rattlin', with a tool box and a pony
You're gears, shiftin' into first
Yeah and that goddamn tranny's just worse
With the melodies of 'See ya and screwdrivers on carburettors
Talkin' shop about money to loan and palominos and roans

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

Gotta startup the Ford, yeah, your lunch 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 mean the dog chewed up my left
With the porcelain poodles and the glass
Staring from the knick knack shelf
And the parent slips for the kids' field trips
And a pair of Muckalucks across the shag carpet

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