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Текст песни C.W. Mccall - Ratchetjaw

C.W. Mccall - Ratchetjaw слова песни




(C.W. McCall, Bill Fries, Chip Davis)YEE-HAW! Merciful sakes alive! You wanna be one a` them CBers, you gonna learn how to ratchetjaw! Pay attention now; I`m only gonna explain it to ya once. You gotta go runnin` amuck in a pick-`em-up truckWith one a` those fancy sidebands?Get four-on-the-floor and two on the doorGet a power mike in yer jaw-handPrepare to strike when ya key the mike`Cause ya never know who`s a-listenin`Some clown insists on a 10-36This here`s what you give `im: "Four, good buddy, I made me a studyAn` I figger it`s the dark a` the moon, sonIt`s half-past spring an` a quarter ta fallAn` the big hand`s a-settin` on noon, sonNow if the fish don`t bite and the almanac`s rightAnd the groundhog sees his shadowA 10-36 goes tick-tock-tick."And that`s what I call ratchetjaw! Gotta git ya a base, out there at yer placeWith a forty-foot pole on the chimneyWith a thousand watts in yer flowerpotsAnd a ree-mote line in the biffyIf ya feel a twitch when ya throw the switchYa gonna dim all the lights in WichitaGonna send out a wave ta make the government raveAnd this here`s whatcha tell `em all: "Yeah, four, good buddy, yer comin` in cruddyBut yer walkin` right through my wall, boyYer carrier`s cool, you makin` me droolYou were definitely battin` my ball, boyYou hittin` me round about fifteen poundYou cut me up like a bandsawBut what the heck, it`s just a radio check."And that there`s how to ratchetjaw [CB conversations. They`re overlaid, as if you`re listening to a party line.] [Woman`s voice] Breaker, breaker, breaker, breaker. We lookin` for that one Buffalo Roy out there. Buffalo Roy, what`s your twenty? Where are you anyway, Buffalo Roy? Are you out there? Come on in there, Buffalo Roy. 10-4. [Man`s voice] Lissen, you. Shut up on all them breakers. One breaker`s enough. [words missing]...channel all the time. Can`t hear a damn thing anybody`s sayin`. [C.W.] Buffalo Roy? That`s a dumb handle. Wanna feel some pain? Just turn up yer gainGet a fearful earful a` garbageTa suppress a belch, just hit yer squelchYou can cut out all the carnageYou wanna have fun, you son-of-a-gunsJust get on the press-ta-talk switchYou gonna amuse `em an` really confuse `emWith a little ol` thing called ratchetjaw Yeah, let them suckers think yer a truckerSay stuff they can`t understand, sonJust bounce up-an`-down while yer toolin` aroundGonna sound like a truck-drivin` man, sonJust tell yer beaver that you gonna leave `erYou catch her on the bounce-aroundIf she comes back with a smart-off crackSay "X-Y-L, it`s show-an`-tell. We definitely got us to go now.Keep yer pants on honey, hang onto the moneyYer X-Y-M`s gotta blow nowEighty-eight, thirds, and feed my birdAn` all them numbers upon ya allIf speed don`t kill, then CB will."And that`s what I call ratchetjaw [More CB conversations.] Breaker, breaker, breaker, breaker, breaker, breaker, [repeated almost ad infinitum, punctuated by bouts of laughter] [Man`s voice. Begins deep, slowly rising to Shirley and Squirrely squeakiness.] Yeah, 10-4, we got ya, breaker. Come back on that? Say, what kind a`... s`not? some kind a` cotton-pickin`... you puttin` me on, aren`t cha? Yeah, you puttin` me on, aren`t cha? [Laughter] 10-4. 10-4.

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