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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

Back in Twenty-Seven,
I had a little farm and I called heaven.
Well, the prices up and the come down,
And I my crops all into town --
I got the money, clothes and groceries,
Fed the kids, and a family.

Rain quit and the got high,
And the black ol' storm filled the sky.
And I swapped my for a Ford machine,
And I poured it full of gas-i-line --
And I started, an' a-rollin',
Over the mountains, out towards the old Bowl.

Way up on a mountain road,
I had a hot and a heavy load,
I's a-goin' pretty fast, there wasn't stoppin',
A-bouncin' up and down, like poppin' --
Had a breakdown, of a nervous bustdown of some kind,
was a feller there, a mechanic feller,
Said it was trouble.

Way up yonder on a curve,
way up yonder in the piney wood,
An' I give rollin' Ford a shove,
An' I's coast as far as I could --
Commence coastin', up speed,
Was a turn, I didn't make it.

Man alive, I'm you,
The fiddles and the really flew.
That took off like a flying squirrel
An' it flew around the world --
Scattered wives and
All the side of that mountain.

We got out to the Coast broke,
So hungry I thought I'd croak,
An' I up a spud or two,
An' my wife fixed up a tater --
We the kids full of it,
thin stew, though,
You read a magazine right through it.
Always figured
That if been just a little bit thinner,
Some of these politicians
Coulda through it.