Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

I guess things were always quiet around Putnam County
Kinda shy and as it clung to the skirts of the 2-lane
That was stretched out an asphalt dance floor
Where all the old timers in bib jeans and store bought
Were hunkerin' down in the dirt to lie about their
And the places they'd been
And they on Coca Colas and be spittin' days work
Until the was a stray dog on the ridge and
And the taverns would be until the naked eye of 2 A.M.

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

And the Old National register was to the tune of
57 and 57 cents
And then its call, one more game of 8 ball
Bernice will be 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 'em down
And claim to fame as they stomped feet
Yeah, boastin' about being to get more ass than a toilet seat

And the GMC's and the Straight 8 were coughin' and wheezin'
And they perculated as they tossed the gravel the fenders
Weave home a wet, slick of a 2-lane
Tire irons and a a-rattlin', with a tool box and a pony saddle
You're gears, shiftin' into first
Yeah and that goddamn tranny's just gettin'
With the melodies of 'See ya laters' and on carburettors
Talkin' shop money to loan and palominos and strawberry roans

See you tomorrow, to the Mrs.
With money to and goodnight kisses
As the radio out Charlie Rich
Man and he sure can sing that son of a
And you home, yeah, weavin' home
Leavin' the joint winking in the dark, warm, narcotic American night
Beneath a pin cushion sky, it's home to toast and

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

And the impending squint of first
And it that lurked behind a weeping marquee in downtown
And they'd be pullin' up any now
Just like a bastard amber, yellow cab
On a rainy and be blowin' its horn, in every window in town