Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

I guess things were always kinda quiet around Putnam
Kinda shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts of the
That was stretched out like an asphalt dance
Where all the old timers in bib jeans and bought boots
Were hunkerin' down in the dirt to lie about lives
And the that 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 Stratocaster slung the Burger meister Beer Guts
Swizzle legs jackknifed over naughahyde stools
And the witch hazel spread out the linoleum floors
Pedal pushers out over midriff bulge
And the coiffed brunette curls over Maybelline
Wearing Prince Machiavelli, Estee Lauder, 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 Williams songbook you like it not

And the Old National register was singing to the 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 toss 'em
And claim to fame as they their feet
Yeah, boastin' about being able to get ass than a toilet seat

And the GMC's and the Straight 8 Fords were coughin' and
And they as they tossed the gravel underneath the fenders
Weave home a wet, anaconda of a 2-lane
Tire irons and a a-rattlin', with a tool box and a pony saddle
grinding gears, shiftin' into first
Yeah and goddamn tranny's just gettin' worse
With the melodies of 'See ya laters' and on carburettors
Talkin' shop money to loan and palominos and strawberry roans

See you tomorrow, to the Mrs.
money to borrow and goodnight kisses
As the radio spit out Charlie
Man and he can sing that son of a bitch
And you home, yeah, weavin' home
Leavin' the little joint in the dark, warm, narcotic American night
Beneath a pin cushion sky, home 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 and where the hell are my goddamn sandals?
What do you the dog chewed up my left foot?
With the poodles and the glass swans
down from the knick knack shelf
And the permission slips for the kids' field trips
And a pair of Muckalucks across the shag carpet

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