Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

He can cook, sew, keep house, play piano, and no wonder the men around here are just beating your door down to propose.
The light will fall right down on the girl.
One friend I don't want riled, it's you.
Ow!
No need for you to do that, Mr. Brewster.
Here comes Aunt Pearl!
Maggie, it's me, Ellie Mae.
The spare room is yours.
Catherine, here's a picture of your ma.
Your family has remarkable longevity.
Why, that's the most shocking, disgusting, insulting, disgusting... Oh, Mr. Brute!
Ow!
This is where the clampets slill, but there ain't no one in.
Now, quieten down, Homer.
We's packing up.
Yeah, Ma, and I'll be your best man.
We ain't got it.
Hey, Jethro, quit notching that tree on this side.
Never mind about Jethro's hat.
Oh, I, uh, I think I'll go into town.
Maggie?
Shut up, Homer!
I'm getting up off that rope.
I beg the manager not to put that up, but he says it's a drawing card.
We's going back to Beverly Hills.
I ain't got no kinks in my leg.
I'll have him rub it with some hot possum grease tonight.
He's a lorry.
No, of course not.
Ain't nobody can outcry Ma when she commences to gush.