C.w. Mccall - Audubon Lyrics
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 feedsAnd the bus came through when they felt the needAnd they stopped at a place there in town called the old home cafeNow my daddy was a music lovin manHe stood six-foot-seven, had big ol handsHed 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 fiddlecause thats all there was to do back there folks, except ta go downtown and watch haircutsSo 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, manys a night Id 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 Ill never forget them announcers at three a.m.Theyd come on an say friends, theres many a soul who needs usSo send them letters an cards ta jesusThats 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 dont get ya, then roosevelt willAnd the bank dont sell no beer, and we dont cash no checks.Now them truckers never talked about nothin but haulinAnd the four-letter words was really appallinThey thought them home-town gals was nothin but toys for their amusement.Rode chevys and macks and big ol stacksTheys always complainin bout their livers an backsBut they was fast-livin, strung-out, truck-drivin son of a gunsNow 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, shed pour em a coffee, then shed bat her eyesThen shed listen to em tell er some big fat liesThen shed 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 tentTheres no proposition that she couldnt 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, theyd pound them counters and kick them stoolsTheys always pickin fights with the local foolsBut one look at mavis, and theyd turn into a bunch a tomcatsWell, Ill never forget them days gone byIs 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 cafeOh, the old home filler-up an keep on a-truckinOh, the old home filler-up an keep on a-truckinOh, the old home filler-up an keep on a-truckin cafeOh, the old home filler-up an keep on a-truckinOh, the old home filler-up an keep on a-truckinOh, the old home filler-up an keep on a-truckin cafe
