Luyện nghe bài hát Ratchetjaw

(C.W. McCall, 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 it to ya once.

You gotta go runnin' amuck in a pick-'em-up
With one a' those fancy
Get four-on-the-floor and two on the
Get a power mike in yer
Prepare to when ya key the mike
ya never know who's a-listenin'
Some clown insists on a
This here's what you give

"Four, good buddy, I made me a
An' I figger the dark a' the moon, son
It's half-past an' a quarter ta fall
An' the big a-settin' on noon, son
Now if the fish don't and the almanac's right
And the sees his shadow
A goes tick-tock-tick."
And what I call ratchetjaw!

Gotta git ya a base, out there at yer
With a forty-foot pole on the
a thousand watts in yer flowerpots
And a line in the biffy
If ya feel a when ya throw the switch
Ya gonna dim all the lights in
send out a wave ta make the government rave
And this here's whatcha 'em all:

"Yeah, four, good buddy, yer in cruddy
But yer walkin' through my wall, boy
Yer carrier's cool, you me drool
You were battin' my ball, boy
You me round about fifteen pound
You cut me up a bandsaw
But the heck, it's just a radio check."
And there's 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 Buffalo Roy out there. Buffalo Roy, what's your twenty? Where are you anyway, 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 thing anybody's sayin'.

[C.W.] Roy? That's a dumb handle.

Wanna some pain? Just turn up yer gain
Get a earful a' garbage
Ta suppress a belch, hit yer squelch
You can cut out all the
You have fun, you son-of-a-guns
get on the press-ta-talk switch
You amuse 'em an' really confuse 'em
With a ol' thing called ratchetjaw

Yeah, let them suckers think yer a
Say they can't understand, son
Just bounce up-an'-down yer toolin' around
Gonna sound a truck-drivin' man, son
Just tell yer that you gonna leave 'er
You her on the bounce-around
If she comes back a smart-off crack
Say "X-Y-L, show-an'-tell. We definitely got us to go now.
yer pants on honey, hang onto the money
Yer X-Y-M's gotta now
Eighty-eight, thirds, and feed my
An' all numbers upon ya all
If don't kill, then CB will."
And that's I call ratchetjaw

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 that? Say, what kind a'... s'not? some kind a' cotton-pickin'... you puttin' me on, aren't cha? Yeah, you puttin' me on, cha? [Laughter] 10-4. 10-4.