Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

I guess things were kinda quiet around Putnam County
Kinda shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts of the
That was stretched out like an asphalt dance
all the old timers in bib jeans and store bought boots
Were hunkerin' down in the dirt to lie about their
And the places they'd been
And they suck on Coca Colas and be spittin' work
the moon was a stray dog on the ridge and
And the taverns would be until the naked eye of 2 A.M.

And the slung over the Burger meister Beer Guts
Swizzle stick jackknifed over naughahyde stools
And the witch spread out over the linoleum floors
Pedal stretched out over midriff bulge
And the coiffed curls over Maybelline eyes
Prince Machiavelli, Estee Lauder, smells so sweet
And I elbowed up at the counter with feelings over mixed drinks
As Bubba and the Roadmasters in pool hall concentration
And, and knit their to cover the entire
Hank Williams 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 game of 8 ball
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 toss 'em down
And claim to as they stomped their feet
Yeah, about being able to get more ass than a toilet seat

And the GMC's and the Straight 8 Fords were and wheezin'
And they perculated as they tossed the underneath the fenders
Weave home a wet, slick 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 goddamn tranny's just worse
With the of 'See ya laters' 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 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 joint winking in the dark, warm, narcotic American night
Beneath a pin cushion sky, it's home to toast and

Gotta startup the Ford, yeah, your lunch money's over there
On the drainin' board, and the toilet's
Ah, Christ shake the handle and the ringin'
It's Mrs Randal and the hell are my goddamn sandals?
What do you mean the dog chewed up my foot?
With the poodles and the glass swans
Staring down from the knick 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 marquee in downtown Putnam
And be pullin' up any minute now
Just like a amber, velveeta yellow cab
On a rainy corner and be its horn, in every window in town