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Well I was born in a town called Audubon
Southwest Iowa, right where it oughta been Twenty three houses, fourteen saloons, an' a feed mill, in Nineteen Thirty Had a neon sign, said Sweeler Feeds An' the bus came through when they felt the need An' they stopped at a place there in town called the old home cafe Now my daddy was a music lovin' man Stood six-foot-seven, had big ol' hands He'd lost two fingers in a chainsaw but he could still play the violin An' Mom played piano - just the keys in the middle An' dad played a storm on his three fingered fiddle Cause that's all there was to do back there folks 'cept to go downtown an' watch haircuts So I 'as raised on dustbowl tunes ya see I had a six tube radio, an' no TV It was so doggone hot I had to wet the bed in the summer just to keep cool Yeah many's the night I'd lay awake A waitin' fer a distant station break Just a settin' an' a wettin' an' lettin' that radio fry Well I listened to Nashville, an' Tulsa, an' Dallas An' Oklahoma City gave my ear a callous An' I'll never fergit them announcers at three AM They'd come on an' say "Friends, there's many a soul who needs us So send them letters 'n cards to Jesus That's J-E-S-U-S friends, in care a Del Rio Texas" But the place I remember on the edge of town Was the place where ya really got the hard core sound Yeah a place where the truckers used to stop on there way to Dees Moines There 'as signs all over them window sills Like "The Devil Don't Git Ya, Then Roosevelt Will" An' "The Bank Don't Sell No Beer, An' We Don't Cash No Checks!" Now them truckers never talked about nothin' but haulin' An' the four letter words was a really appalin' They thought them hometown gals was nothin' but toys, fer their amusment Drove Chevy's an' Macks, with big ol' stacks They 'as always complainin' 'bout their liver an' backs But they 'as 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 An 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 her some big fat lies Then she'd ask 'em how the wife 'n kids was, back there in Joplin Now Mavis had all of her ducks in a row Weighed ninety-eight punds - put on quite show Remind ya of a couple a Cub Scouts tryin' to set up a Sears Roebuck pup tent There 'as no proposition that she couldn't handle Next to her there 'as 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'd remind ya of fingernails a scratchin' on glass A stompin' on in, an' leavin' tracks all over the Montgomery Ward linoleum Yeah they'd pound them counters, an' kick them stools They 'as always pickin' fights with the local fools But one look at Mavis, an' they'd turn into a bunch a tomcats Well I'll never forget them days gone by I 'as just a kid, 'bout four foot high But I never forgot that lesson in pickin' an' singin' - the country way Yeah them walkin' an' talkin' truckstop blues Came back to life in Seventy-Two As the Old Home Filler-Up An' Keep On A Truckin' Café 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' Café 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' Café |
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