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 I'm only gonna explain it to ya once.

You gotta go runnin' in a pick-'em-up truck
With one a' fancy sidebands?
Get and two on the door
Get a mike in yer jaw-hand
Prepare to strike when ya key the
'Cause ya know who's a-listenin'
Some clown insists on a
This here's you give 'im:

"Four, good buddy, I me a study
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 10-36 tick-tock-tick."
And that's what I 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 ree-mote line in the
If ya feel a twitch when ya the switch
Ya gonna dim all the lights in
Gonna send out a ta make the government rave
And this here's tell 'em all:

"Yeah, four, buddy, yer comin' in cruddy
But yer walkin' right my wall, boy
Yer carrier's cool, you makin' me
You definitely battin' my ball, boy
You hittin' me round fifteen pound
You cut me up a bandsaw
But what the heck, it's just a check."
And there's how to ratchetjaw

[CB conversations. overlaid, as if you're listening to a party line.]

[Woman's voice] Breaker, breaker, breaker, breaker. We 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 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.] Roy? That's a dumb handle.

Wanna feel some pain? turn up yer gain
Get a earful a' garbage
Ta a belch, just hit yer squelch
You can cut out all the
You wanna fun, you son-of-a-guns
Just get on the switch
You gonna 'em an' really confuse 'em
With a little ol' called ratchetjaw

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

CB conversations.]

Breaker, breaker, breaker, breaker, breaker, breaker, almost ad infinitum, punctuated by bouts of laughter]

[Man's voice. Begins deep, slowly rising to Shirley and 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.