Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

Well, I was in a town called Audubon
Southwest Iowa, right where it oughta
houses, fourteen saloons,
And a mill in nineteen-thirty.
Had a sign, said "Squealer Feeds"
And the bus came when they felt the need
And they stopped at a place in town called The Old Home Cafe

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

So I was raised on Dust tunes, you see
Had a radio 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 night I'd lay
for a distant station break
Just a-settin' and an' a-lettin' that radio fry.

Well, I listened to Nashville and and Dallas
And Oklahoma City gave my ear a
And never forget them announcers at three A.M.
come on an' say "Friends, there's many a soul who needs us
"So send them letters an' ta Jesus
"That's friends, in care a' Del Rio, Texas."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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