Luyện nghe bài hát Audubon

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

Now my was a music lovin' 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, 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 downtown and watch

So I was raised on Bowl tunes, you see
Had a radio an' no TV
It was so dog-goned hot I had to wet the bed in the just to keep cool.
Yeah, many's a I'd lay awake
for a distant station break
Just and a-wettin' 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 them at three A.M.
They'd come on an' say "Friends, there's many a who needs us
"So send them letters an' cards ta
"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 hard-core
Yeah, a place where the truckers used ta stop on their way to Dees
There was signs all over windowsills
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 about nothin' but haulin'
And the four-letter words was appallin'
They thought them gals was nothin' but toys for their amusement.
Rode and Macks 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 Mavis
Yeah, she'd 'em a coffee, then she'd bat her eyes
Then she'd listen to 'em tell 'er big fat lies
she'd ask 'em how the wife and kids was, back there in Joplin?

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

Now the truckers, on the hand, was really crass
They remind ya of fingernails a-scratchin' on
on in, leavin' tracks 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 turn into a a' tomcats

Well, I'll forget them days 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 An' Keep On A-Truckin' Cafe"

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