You know Mrs. Drysdale.

Well, Miss Hathaway, Mr. Drysdale, Miss Drysdale, I don't know who all.

Is Miss Drysdale in town?

Mr. Drysdale, look who's here.

You can't catch Mr. Drysdale.

I'll always be grateful to Drysdale for... By the way, why aren't the Drysdales here?

Drysdale's missing the party of the year.

Granny says we can't wait no longer for the Drysdale.

The Beverly Hillbilly.

Well, Marty, Marty, Mr. Drysdale thinks you're going to transfer him to your bank in Moose Jaw, Alaska.

Chief, Mrs. Rysdale, this is indeed a red-letter day.

Hillbilly, that is.

One look at those hillbillies and I'm an Eskimo!

So they loaded up the truck and they moved to Beverly Hills, that is.

Who'd think that a stuffy millionaire like Clampett would come up with a hillbilly party?

Come and listen to a story about a man named Ched.

A poor mountaineer barely kept his family fed.

And then one day he was shooting at some food, and up through the ground come a bubbling crude.

Oil, that is.

Black gold.