The Beverly Hillbilly.

What about Christmas?

I mean... Mrs. Drives, you're coming home?

No, no dear, you mustn't come home yet.

Let's get her home as quickly as possible.

Hillbilly, that is.

What he says, she won't be cured till Christmas of next year.

Now, I want the truth about the Clampetts or I'm flying home immediately.

Well, for goodness sake.

You're big for him too.

Any message for Mr. Drysdale?

Now you come on home and you and me will get glassy-eyed, fallen-down crot.

Oh, Margaret, don't you want to stop at home first and freshen up, take some medicine or something?

I've been living with it for years.

Well, for them, Mrs. Drives, I wouldn't see.

We got a pond for swimming right there.

for pain, one swaller, don't open near fire.

Well, look who's getting too smart for his britches.

I said, uh, that's still for making corn liquor.

Good Lord made us all, and if we's good enough for him, we sure ought to be good enough for each other.