Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

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

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

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

Well, I listened to Nashville and Tulsa and
And Oklahoma City gave my ear a
And I'll never forget announcers at three A.M.
They'd come on an' say "Friends, there's a soul who needs us
"So send letters an' cards 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 stop on their way to Dees
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 don't no checks."

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

Now the gal waitin' tables was classy
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
Then listen to 'em tell 'er some big fat lies
Then she'd ask 'em how the wife and kids was, back in Joplin?

Now Mavis had all of her in a row
Weighed ninety-eight put on quite a show
Remind ya of a couple a' Cub tryin' ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tent
There's no that she couldn't handle
Next ta her, nothin' could hold a
Not a hell of a lot upstairs, but there on down, Disneyland!

Now the truckers, on the other hand, was really
They remind ya of fingernails on glass
on in, leavin' tracks all over the Montgomery Ward linoleum
Yeah, they'd pound them counters and kick stools
always pickin' fights with the local fools
But one at Mavis, and they'd turn into a bunch a' tomcats

Well, I'll never them days gone by
I's just a kid, 'bout foot high
But I never forgot lesson an' pickin' and singin', the country way
Yeah, walkin', talkin' truck stop blues
Came 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 Filler-up An' Keep On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' Keep On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' Keep On
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' On A-Truckin'
Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' Keep On Cafe