song lyrics Audubon lyrics
Well, I was born in a town called Audubon Southwest Iowa, right where it oughta been Twenty-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 need And they stopped at a place there in town called The Old Home Cafe
Now my daddy was a music lovin man He stood six-foot-seven, had big ol hands He d lost two fingers in a chainsaw but he could still play the violin And Mom played piana, just the keys in the middle And 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 see Had a six-tube radio an no TV It 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 awake A-waitin for a distant station break Just a-settin and a-wettin an a-lettin that radio fry.
Well, I listened to Nashville and Tulsa and Dallas And Oklahoma City gave my ear a callus And 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 town Was the place where you really got the hard-core sound Yeah, a place where the truckers used ta stop on their way to Dees Moins There was signs all over them windowsills Like "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 stacks They s always complainin bout their livers an backs But they was fast-livin , strung-out, truck-drivin son of a guns
Now the gal waitin tables was really classy Had a rebuilt motor on a fairly new chassis And she knew how to handle them truckers; name was Mavis Davis Yeah, she d pour em a coffee, then she d bat her eyes Then she d listen to em tell er some big fat lies Then she d ask em how the wife and kids was, back there in Joplin?
Now Mavis had all of her ducks in a row Weighed ninety-eight pounds; put on quite a show Remind ya of a couple a Cub Scouts tryin ta set up a Sears, Roebuck pup tent There s no proposition that she couldn t handle Next ta her, nothin could hold a candle Not a hell of a lot upstairs, but from there on down, Disneyland!
Now the truckers, on the other hand, was really crass They remind ya of fingernails a-scratchin on glass A-stompin on in, leavin tracks all over the Montgomery Ward linoleum Yeah, they d pound them counters and kick them stools They s always pickin fights with the local fools But one look at Mavis, and they d turn into a bunch a tomcats
Well, I ll never forget them days gone by I s just a kid, bout four foot high But I never forgot that lesson an pickin and singin , the country way Yeah, them walkin , talkin truck stop blues Came back ta life in seventy-two As "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 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 Cafe song lyrics
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