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
was stretched out like an asphalt dance floor
Where all the old timers in bib jeans and bought boots
Were hunkerin' down in the dirt to lie their lives
And the places that been
And suck on Coca Colas and be spittin' days work
Until the moon was a 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 Guts
Swizzle stick legs jackknifed naughahyde stools
And the witch hazel out over the linoleum floors
Pedal stretched out over midriff bulge
And the coiffed brunette curls over eyes
Wearing Prince Machiavelli, Estee Lauder, smells so
And I elbowed up at the with mixed feelings over mixed drinks
As Bubba and the Roadmasters moaned in pool hall
And, and knit their to cover the entire
Hank Williams songbook whether you it not

And the Old National register was singing to the of
57 dollars and 57
And then its call, one more game of 8 ball
will be putting the chairs on the tables
Someone 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 to fame as they stomped their feet
Yeah, boastin' about being able to get ass than a toilet seat

And the GMC's and the Straight 8 Fords coughin' and wheezin'
And they perculated as they 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
You're grinding gears, into first
Yeah and that 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 borrow and goodnight
As the radio spit out Charlie
Man and he sure can that son of a bitch
And you home, yeah, weavin' home
Leavin' the little joint winking in the dark, warm, narcotic American
Beneath a pin sky, it's home to toast and honey

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

And the impending squint of first
And it that behind a weeping marquee in downtown Putnam
And be pullin' up any minute now
Just like a bastard amber, velveeta cab
On a rainy corner and be blowin' its horn, in every window in