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Текст песни C.W. Mccall - Audubon

C.W. Mccall - Audubon слова песни




Well, I was born in a town called AudubonSouthwest Iowa, right where it oughta beenTwenty-three houses, fourteen saloons, And a feed mill in nineteen-thirty.Had a neon sign, said "Squealer Feeds"And the bus came through when they felt the needAnd they stopped at a place there in town called The Old Home Cafe Now my daddy was a music lovin` manHe stood six-foot-seven, had big ol` handsHe`d lost two fingers in a chainsaw but he could still play the violinAnd Mom played piana, just the keys in the middleAnd Dad played a storm on his three-fingered fiddle`Cause that`s all there was to do back there folks, except ta go downtown and watch haircuts So I was raised on Dust Bowl tunes, you seeHad a six-tube radio an` no TVIt was so dog-goned hot I had to wet the bed in the summer just to keep cool.Yeah, many`s a night I`d lay awakeA-waitin` for a distant station breakJust a-settin` and a-wettin` an` a-lettin` that radio fry. Well, I listened to Nashville and Tulsa and DallasAnd Oklahoma City gave my ear a callusAnd I`ll never forget them announcers at three A.M.They`d come on an` say "Friends, there`s many a soul who needs us"So send them letters an` cards ta Jesus"That`s J-E-S-U-S friends, in care a` Del Rio, Texas." But the place I remember, on the edge a` townWas the place where you really got the hard-core soundYeah, a place where the truckers used ta stop on their way to Dees MoinsThere was signs all over them windowsillsLike "If the Devil don`t get ya, then Roosevelt will"And "The bank don`t sell no beer, and we don`t cash no checks." Now them truckers never talked about nothin` but haulin`And the four-letter words was really appallin`They thought them home-town gals was nothin` but toys for their amusement.Rode Chevys and Macks and big ol` stacksThey`s always complainin` `bout their livers an` backsBut they was fast-livin`, strung-out, truck-drivin` son of a guns Now the gal waitin` tables was really classyHad a rebuilt motor on a fairly new chassisAnd she knew how to handle them truckers; name was Mavis DavisYeah, she`d pour `em a coffee, then she`d bat her eyesThen she`d listen to `em tell `er some big fat liesThen she`d ask `em how the wife and kids was, back there in Joplin? Now Mavis had all of her ducks in a rowWeighed ninety-eight pounds; put on quite a showRemind ya of a couple a` Cub Scouts tryin` ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tentThere`s no proposition that she couldn`t handleNext ta her, nothin` could hold a candleNot a hell of a lot upstairs, but from there on down, Disneyland! Now the truckers, on the other hand, was really crassThey remind ya of fingernails a-scratchin` on glassA-stompin` on in, leavin` tracks all over the Montgomery Ward linoleumYeah, they`d pound them counters and kick them stoolsThey`s always pickin` fights with the local foolsBut one look at Mavis, and they`d turn into a bunch a` tomcats Well, I`ll never forget them days gone byI`s just a kid, `bout four foot highBut I never forgot that lesson an` pickin` and singin`, the country wayYeah, them walkin`, talkin` truck stop bluesCame back ta life in seventy-twoAs "The Old Home Filler-up An` Keep On A-Truckin` Cafe" Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An` Keep On A-Truckin`Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An` Keep On A-Truckin`Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An` Keep On A-Truckin` CafeOh, the Old Home Filler-up An` Keep On A-Truckin`Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An` Keep On A-Truckin`Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An` Keep On A-Truckin` Cafe

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