Ratchetjaw lyrics Lyrics

song lyrics Ratchetjaw lyrics 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 truck With one a those fancy sidebands? Get four-on-the-floor and two on the door Get a power mike in yer jaw-hand Prepare to strike when ya key the mike Cause ya never know who s a-listenin Some clown insists on a 10-36 This here s what you give im: "Four, good buddy, I made me a study An I figger it s the dark a the moon, son It s half-past spring an a quarter ta fall An the big hand s a-settin on noon, son Now if the fish don t bite and the almanac s right And the groundhog sees his shadow A 10-36 goes tick-tock-tick." And that s what I call ratchetjaw! Gotta git ya a base, out there at yer place With a forty-foot pole on the chimney With a thousand watts in yer flowerpots And a ree-mote line in the biffy If ya feel a twitch when ya throw the switch Ya gonna dim all the lights in Wichita Gonna send out a wave ta make the government rave And this here s whatcha tell em all: "Yeah, four, good buddy, yer comin in cruddy But yer walkin right through my wall, boy Yer carrier s cool, you makin me drool You were definitely battin my ball, boy You hittin me round about fifteen pound You cut me up like a bandsaw But 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 gain Get a fearful earful a garbage Ta suppress a belch, just hit yer squelch You can cut out all the carnage You wanna have fun, you son-of-a-guns Just get on the press-ta-talk switch You gonna amuse em an really confuse em With a little ol thing called ratchetjaw Yeah, let them suckers think yer a trucker Say stuff they can t understand, son Just bounce up-an -down while yer toolin around Gonna sound like a truck-drivin man, son Just tell yer beaver that you gonna leave er You catch her on the bounce-around If she comes back with a smart-off crack Say "X-Y-L, it s show-an -tell. We definitely got us to go now. Keep yer pants on honey, hang onto the money Yer X-Y-M s gotta blow now Eighty-eight, thirds, and feed my bird An all them numbers upon ya all If 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. song lyrics