Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

I things were always kinda quiet around Putnam County
Kinda shy and sleepy as it clung to the of the 2-lane
That was stretched out like an dance floor
all the old timers in bib jeans and store bought boots
Were down in the dirt to lie about their lives
And the places they'd 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 the naked eye of 2 A.M.

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

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

And the and the Straight 8 Fords were coughin' and wheezin'
And they perculated as they tossed the gravel underneath the
Weave home a wet, slick anaconda of a
Tire irons and a a-rattlin', with a tool box and a pony saddle
You're grinding gears, shiftin' into
Yeah and that goddamn just gettin' worse
With the melodies of 'See ya laters' and on carburettors
shop about money to loan and palominos and strawberry 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 little winking in the dark, warm, narcotic American night
Beneath a pin cushion sky, it's home to and honey

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

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