Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

I guess things were always kinda quiet Putnam County
Kinda shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts of the
That was stretched out like an dance floor
Where all the old timers in bib jeans and bought boots
Were hunkerin' down in the dirt to lie about their
And the places that been
And they suck on Coca Colas and be spittin' work
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 meister Beer Guts
Swizzle stick legs jackknifed over stools
And the hazel spread out over the linoleum floors
Pedal pushers stretched out over midriff
And the brunette curls over Maybelline eyes
Wearing Machiavelli, Estee Lauder, smells so sweet
And I elbowed up at the with mixed feelings over mixed drinks
As Bubba and the Roadmasters moaned in pool hall
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 its last call, one more game of 8 ball
Bernice will be putting the 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 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 and wheezin'
And they perculated as tossed the gravel underneath the fenders
Weave home a wet, slick 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 goddamn tranny's just gettin'
With the of 'See ya laters' and screwdrivers on carburettors
Talkin' shop money to loan and palominos and strawberry roans

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

Gotta startup the Ford, yeah, your lunch money's over there
On the board, and the toilet's runnin'
Ah, Christ the handle and the telephone's ringin'
It's Mrs Randal and where the are my goddamn sandals?
What do you the dog chewed up my left foot?
With the porcelain and the glass swans
Staring 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 squint of first light
And it that lurked behind a 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 blowin' its horn, in every window in