Audubon Lyrics - Singles - C.w. Mccall

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