Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

I guess things were always kinda quiet around Putnam
shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts of the 2-lane
That was 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 they'd been
And they suck on Coca Colas and be spittin' 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 slung over the Burger meister Beer Guts
Swizzle stick legs over naughahyde stools
And the witch hazel out over the linoleum floors
Pedal pushers stretched out over bulge
And the brunette curls over Maybelline eyes
Wearing Machiavelli, Estee Lauder, smells so sweet
And I elbowed up at the counter with mixed feelings over drinks
As Bubba and the Roadmasters moaned in hall concentration
And, and their brows to cover the entire
Hank Williams songbook you like it not

And the Old National register was 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 come in say "Hey man, 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, 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 as they tossed the gravel underneath the fenders
Weave home a wet, anaconda of a 2-lane
irons and a crowbars a-rattlin', with a tool box and a pony saddle
You're grinding gears, into first
Yeah and that goddamn just gettin' worse
With the melodies of 'See ya laters' and screwdrivers on
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 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, lunch money's right over there
On the board, and the toilet's runnin'
Ah, Christ the handle and the telephone's ringin'
It's Mrs Randal and where the are my goddamn sandals?
What do you the dog chewed up my left foot?
With the porcelain poodles and the swans
Staring down from the knick knack
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 Putnam
And they'd be up any minute now
like a bastard amber, velveeta yellow cab
On a rainy corner and be blowin' its horn, in every window in