Jethro.

Come on, Jethro.

Women is always late, Jethro.

Yeah, I reckon so, Jethro.

Look, Jethro, I'm getting tired of standing around in these here clothes.

Yeah, Jethro, but pass the word around.

Uncle Jay, how's the party going, Jethro?

Well, it ain't all together their fault, Jethro.

The Beverly Hillbilly.

Perhaps Jethro could drive you around in the truck.

Yeah, but we gotta wait for our women, folks, Jethro.

Jethro, you and me got to get the shovel and the spade and the tater fork all honed up nice and bright.

She didn't say no particular time, Jethro, but when it commences, we's in charge of it.

This here is my daughter, Ellie May, and that young fella carrying the sausages is my nephew, Jethro.

Now get this.

Get out of here!

No, Jethro, this being our first Beverly Hills High Society garden party, I reckon we ought to just watch the folks and not go to scrapping.

Hillbilly, that is.

I'm getting a mighty squirmy myself.

Come on, everybody, get some punch.