Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

I things were always kinda quiet around 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 hunkerin' down in the dirt to lie their lives
And the that they'd been
And they suck on Coca and be spittin' days work
Until the was a stray dog on the ridge and
And the taverns would be until the naked eye of 2 A.M.

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

And the Old register was singing to the tune of
57 dollars and 57
And then its call, one more game of 8 ball
Bernice will be putting the 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' being able 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 gravel underneath the
Weave home a wet, anaconda of a 2-lane
Tire irons and a crowbars a-rattlin', with a box and a pony saddle
grinding gears, shiftin' into first
Yeah and that goddamn tranny's gettin' worse
With the melodies of 'See ya laters' and screwdrivers on
Talkin' about money to loan and palominos and strawberry roans

See you tomorrow, to the Mrs.
With to borrow and goodnight kisses
As the spit out Charlie Rich
Man and he sure can sing son of a bitch
And you home, yeah, weavin' home
the little joint winking in the dark, warm, narcotic American night
Beneath a pin cushion sky, it's home to and honey

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

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