Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

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

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

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

And the GMC's and the 8 Fords were coughin' and wheezin'
And they perculated as they tossed the underneath the fenders
Weave a wet, slick anaconda of a 2-lane
irons and a crowbars a-rattlin', with a tool box and a pony saddle
You're gears, shiftin' into first
Yeah and that tranny's just gettin' worse
the melodies of 'See ya laters' and screwdrivers on carburettors
Talkin' shop about to loan and palominos and strawberry roans

See you tomorrow, to the Mrs.
With money to borrow and goodnight
As the spit out Charlie Rich
Man and he sure can sing that son of a
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, your lunch money's right there
On the drainin' board, and the runnin'
Ah, shake the handle and the telephone's ringin'
It's Mrs Randal and the hell are my goddamn sandals?
do you mean the dog chewed up my left foot?
With the porcelain poodles and the swans
Staring down from the knack shelf
And the permission slips for the kids' field trips
And a pair of Muckalucks across the shag carpet

And the impending squint of first
And it lurked 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 in town