Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

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

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

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

And the and the Straight 8 Fords were coughin' and wheezin'
And perculated as they tossed the gravel underneath the fenders
home a wet, slick anaconda of a 2-lane
Tire irons and a crowbars a-rattlin', a tool box and a pony saddle
grinding gears, shiftin' into first
Yeah and that goddamn tranny's just gettin'
With the of 'See ya laters' and screwdrivers on carburettors
shop about money to loan and palominos and strawberry roans

See you tomorrow, to the Mrs.
With money to borrow and kisses
As the spit out Charlie Rich
Man and he sure can sing that son of a
And you home, yeah, weavin' home
Leavin' the little 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 money's right over there
On the drainin' board, and the toilet's
Ah, Christ the handle and the telephone's ringin'
Mrs Randal and where the hell are my goddamn sandals?
What do you mean the dog up my left foot?
the porcelain poodles and the glass swans
Staring down from the knick knack
And the permission slips 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 marquee in downtown Putnam
And be pullin' up any minute now
Just a bastard amber, velveeta yellow cab
On a rainy and be blowin' its horn, in every window in town