Luyện nghe bài hát Putnam County

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

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

And the Old register was singing to the tune of
57 and 57 cents
And then its 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 would 'em down
And to fame as they stomped their 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 perculated 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
You're grinding gears, shiftin' first
Yeah and that goddamn tranny's gettin' worse
With the melodies of 'See ya and screwdrivers on carburettors
Talkin' shop about money to loan and and strawberry roans

See you tomorrow, to the Mrs.
money to borrow and goodnight kisses
As the radio out Charlie Rich
Man and he sure can sing son of a bitch
And you weave home, yeah, weavin'
Leavin' the joint winking in the dark, warm, narcotic American night
a pin cushion sky, it's home to toast and honey

Gotta startup the Ford, yeah, your lunch money's right there
On the drainin' board, and the runnin'
Ah, Christ shake the handle and the telephone's
It's Mrs Randal and where the are my goddamn sandals?
What do you mean the dog chewed up my left
With the porcelain poodles and the swans
Staring from the knick knack shelf
And the permission slips for the kids' field trips
And a pair of Muckalucks scraping across the carpet

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