Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

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

And the Stratocaster slung over the Burger Beer Guts
Swizzle legs jackknifed over naughahyde stools
And the witch hazel spread out over the linoleum
Pedal pushers stretched out over 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 in pool hall concentration
And, and knit their to cover the entire
Hank Williams songbook whether you it not

And the Old National was singing to the tune of
57 dollars and 57
And its last call, one more game of 8 ball
will be putting the chairs on the tables
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 claim to fame as stomped their feet
Yeah, boastin' about being able to get more ass 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
home a wet, slick anaconda of a 2-lane
Tire and a crowbars a-rattlin', with a tool box and a pony saddle
grinding gears, shiftin' into first
Yeah and that goddamn tranny's gettin' worse
With the melodies of ya laters' and screwdrivers on carburettors
Talkin' shop about money to loan and palominos and strawberry

See you tomorrow, to the Mrs.
With money to borrow and goodnight
As the radio spit out Charlie
Man and he sure can sing that son of a
And you weave home, yeah, home
the little joint winking in the dark, warm, narcotic American night
Beneath a pin sky, it's home to toast and honey

Gotta startup the Ford, yeah, your money's right over there
On the board, and the toilet's 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 and the glass swans
Staring down from the knick shelf
And the parent slips for the kids' field trips
And a pair of Muckalucks scraping across the shag

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