Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

I guess things were always kinda quiet Putnam County
shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts of the 2-lane
That was stretched out like an dance floor
all the old timers in bib jeans and store bought boots
Were down in the dirt to lie about their lives
And the places they'd been
And they suck on Coca Colas and be days work
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 over the Burger meister Guts
Swizzle stick legs over naughahyde stools
And the witch hazel spread out the linoleum floors
Pedal pushers stretched out over bulge
And the coiffed brunette over Maybelline eyes
Wearing Prince Machiavelli, Estee Lauder, so sweet
And I elbowed up at the with mixed feelings over mixed drinks
As Bubba and the Roadmasters moaned in hall concentration
And, and knit their 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 game of 8
will be putting the chairs on the tables
Someone come in say "Hey man, got
Any Cables, is that a 6 or 12 volt?"
And all the studs in town would toss 'em
And claim to fame as they their feet
Yeah, boastin' about being to get more ass than a toilet seat

And the GMC's and the 8 Fords were coughin' and wheezin'
And they perculated as they tossed the underneath the fenders
Weave home a wet, slick anaconda of a
irons and a crowbars a-rattlin', with a tool box and a pony saddle
You're gears, shiftin' into first
Yeah and that goddamn tranny's gettin' worse
With the melodies of 'See ya laters' and on carburettors
Talkin' shop about money to loan and and strawberry roans

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

Gotta startup the Ford, yeah, lunch money's right over there
On the drainin' board, and the runnin'
Ah, Christ the handle and the telephone's ringin'
It's Mrs Randal and where the hell are my sandals?
What do you mean the dog chewed up my left
With the porcelain poodles and the swans
Staring down the knick knack shelf
And the parent permission slips for the field trips
And a pair of scraping across the shag carpet

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