Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

I guess things were always kinda around 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 in bib jeans and store bought boots
Were hunkerin' in the dirt to lie about their lives
And the places they'd been
And they suck on Coca and be spittin' days work
Until the moon was a stray dog on the and
And the would be swollen until the naked eye of 2 A.M.

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

And the Old National register was to the tune of
57 dollars and 57
And then its last call, one more of 8 ball
Bernice will be the chairs on the tables
Someone come in say "Hey man, got
Any Jumper Cables, is a 6 or 12 volt?"
And all the studs in town toss 'em down
And to fame as they stomped their feet
Yeah, boastin' being able to get more ass than a toilet seat

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

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

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

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