Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

I things were always kinda quiet around Putnam County
Kinda shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts of the
That was stretched out like an asphalt dance
Where all the old timers in bib jeans and bought boots
Were down in the dirt to lie about their lives
And the places that been
And they suck on Coca Colas and be spittin' days
Until the moon was a dog on the ridge and
And the taverns be swollen until the naked eye of 2 A.M.

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

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

And the GMC's and the Straight 8 Fords were and wheezin'
And they perculated as they tossed the gravel underneath the
home a wet, slick anaconda of a 2-lane
Tire irons and a a-rattlin', with a tool box and a pony saddle
You're grinding gears, into first
and that goddamn tranny's just gettin' worse
With the melodies of 'See ya and screwdrivers on carburettors
Talkin' shop about money to loan and and strawberry roans

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

Gotta startup the Ford, yeah, your lunch money's over there
On the drainin' board, and the runnin'
Ah, Christ shake the handle and the ringin'
Mrs Randal 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 from the knick knack shelf
And the parent permission slips for the kids' trips
And a pair of Muckalucks scraping across the carpet

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