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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
That's Jethro.
You're getting too rough.
I'll fetch it, Granny.
Cricket?
Well, that's how come that big old pink chicken didn't get away from me!
Great drive, those Oxford men.
Pa just can't wait to commence gardening.
Jethro, you swear to be telling the truth?
That's what kind of a cook I am.
And just why does Cook need an axe?
I know you don't like it when I say that, but you like it when the young fellas around here come in saying it, and they will.
Oh, yes, indeed.
Look!
We'll run in and show Granny.
Get up from there.
My secretary should be over very soon.
I'm a cook with a stove that don't brawl, food that's froze solid, chickens that can't be caught, eggs that can't be broke, and a smart, alecky city woman telling me my business.
Thinkin' you'd make a hollerin' noise, too, if you was to lay egg like that.
You are the most incompetent, insubordinate, belligerent group of domestics.
Why, she fit in just like one of the family.
Sorry I couldn't stop before.
Set a spell.
Oh, it's my pleasure, Mr. Clavitt.
I don't think even Jethro would eat crickets.
Well, he ain't president no more.
Makes you look taller.
And when your ma passed away, I just decided to turn you into a boy.
It makes a kind of hollering noise.
They're only this big around.
Guess it'll come down from there.