(C.W. McCall, Fries, Chip Davis)
YEE-HAW! Merciful sakes alive! You wanna be one a' them CBers, you learn how to ratchetjaw! Pay attention now; I'm only gonna explain it to ya once.
You gotta go amuck in a pick-'em-up truck With one a' those sidebands? Get four-on-the-floor and two on the Get a power in yer jaw-hand to strike when ya key the mike 'Cause ya never know who's clown insists on a 10-36 This here's what you give
"Four, buddy, I made me a study An' I figger it's the a' the moon, son It's spring an' a quarter ta fall An' the big a-settin' on noon, son Now if the fish don't bite and the right And the sees his shadow A 10-36 tick-tock-tick." And what I call ratchetjaw!
Gotta git ya a base, out at yer place a forty-foot pole on the chimney With a thousand watts in yer And a line in the biffy If ya feel a twitch when ya throw the Ya gonna dim all the in Wichita Gonna send out a wave ta the government rave And here's whatcha tell 'em all:
"Yeah, four, good buddy, yer comin' in But yer walkin' right my wall, boy Yer carrier's cool, you makin' me You definitely battin' my ball, boy You hittin' me round about pound You cut me up a bandsaw But the heck, it's just a radio check." And that how to ratchetjaw
[CB conversations. They're overlaid, as if you're to a party line.]
[Woman's voice] Breaker, breaker, breaker, breaker. We lookin' for that one 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 enough. [words missing]...channel all the time. Can't hear a damn thing anybody's sayin'.
[C.W.] Buffalo Roy? That's a handle.
Wanna feel some pain? Just up yer gain Get a earful a' garbage Ta suppress a belch, just hit yer You can cut out all the You wanna fun, you son-of-a-guns get on the press-ta-talk switch You gonna amuse 'em an' confuse 'em With a little ol' called ratchetjaw
Yeah, let suckers think yer a trucker Say stuff they understand, son Just up-an'-down while yer toolin' around Gonna sound a truck-drivin' man, son Just tell yer beaver that you leave 'er You her on the bounce-around If she comes back a smart-off crack Say "X-Y-L, it's show-an'-tell. We got us to go now. yer pants on honey, hang onto the money Yer gotta blow now Eighty-eight, thirds, and my bird An' all them numbers ya all If don't kill, then CB will." And that's what I call
CB conversations.]
Breaker, breaker, breaker, breaker, breaker, breaker, [repeated almost ad infinitum, punctuated by bouts of
[Man's voice. Begins deep, slowly rising to Shirley and Squirrely squeakiness.] Yeah, 10-4, we got ya, breaker. Come back on 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.