Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

Well, I was born in a town Audubon
Southwest Iowa, right where it been
Twenty-three houses, saloons,
And a feed in nineteen-thirty.
Had a neon sign, "Squealer Feeds"
And the bus came through when they felt the
And stopped at a place there in town called The Old Home Cafe

Now my daddy was a music man
He stood six-foot-seven, had big ol'
He'd two fingers in a chainsaw but he could still play the violin
And Mom played piana, just the keys in the
And Dad played a on his three-fingered fiddle
'Cause that's all there was to do back there folks, except ta go downtown and haircuts

So I was on Dust Bowl tunes, you see
Had a six-tube an' no TV
It was so dog-goned hot I had to wet the bed in the summer just to cool.
Yeah, many's a I'd lay awake
A-waitin' for a station break
Just a-settin' and a-wettin' an' that radio fry.

Well, I listened to and Tulsa and Dallas
And Oklahoma City my ear a callus
And I'll never forget announcers at three A.M.
They'd on an' say "Friends, there's many a soul who needs us
"So send them letters an' ta Jesus
"That's J-E-S-U-S friends, in a' Del Rio, Texas."

But the place I remember, on the edge a'
Was the place where you got the hard-core sound
Yeah, a place where the truckers used ta on their way to Dees Moins
There was signs all over them
Like "If the Devil don't get ya, then will"
And "The bank don't no beer, and we don't cash no checks."

Now them truckers never talked about nothin' but
And the four-letter words was appallin'
They thought home-town gals was nothin' but toys for their amusement.
Rode Chevys and and big ol' stacks
They's always complainin' 'bout their livers an'
But they was fast-livin', strung-out, truck-drivin' son of a

Now the gal waitin' was really classy
Had a rebuilt motor on a fairly new
And she knew how to handle them name was Mavis Davis
Yeah, she'd pour 'em a coffee, then bat her eyes
Then she'd listen to 'em 'er some big fat lies
Then ask 'em how the wife and kids was, back there in Joplin?

Now had all of her ducks in a row
ninety-eight pounds; put on quite a show
Remind ya of a a' Cub Scouts tryin' ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tent
There's no proposition she couldn't handle
Next ta her, could hold a candle
Not a hell of a lot upstairs, but from on down, Disneyland!

Now the truckers, on the other hand, was crass
They ya of fingernails a-scratchin' on glass
A-stompin' on in, leavin' tracks all over the Ward linoleum
Yeah, they'd pound them counters and kick stools
They's pickin' fights with the local fools
But one look at Mavis, and they'd into a bunch a' tomcats

Well, I'll never forget them days by
I's just a kid, 'bout four foot
But I forgot that lesson an' pickin' and singin', the country way
Yeah, them walkin', talkin' stop blues
Came ta life in seventy-two
As "The Old Home An' Keep On A-Truckin' Cafe"

Oh, the Old Home An' Keep On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home An' Keep On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' On A-Truckin' Cafe
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' Keep On
Oh, the Old Filler-up An' Keep On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' Keep On Cafe