He's just a man Stand by your man Give him two arms to cling to And something warm to come to When nights are cold and lonely Stand by your man And tell the world you love him Keep giving all the love you can Stand by your man Stand by your man And show the world you love him Keep giving all the love you can Baby Stand by Your man Well, folks, it's time to call it a night. But do what you feel, and keep both feet on the wheel. You don't have to go home but you can't stay here. So, till next time. - Move 'em on - Head 'em up - Head 'em up - Move 'em on Rawhide - Cut 'em out - Ride 'em in - Ride 'em in - Cut 'em out Ride 'em in, rawhide Let's get the hell out of here. Shit, I wanna tell you, that's some of the best goddam music we've had... at the Country Bunker in a long time. Well, sorry we couldn't remember "The Wreck of the Old 97". Why, hell! You guys can learn it next time when you come back. Bob, about our money for tonight. That's right. Two hundred dollars... and you boys drank $300 worth of beer. When we first came in... the bar lady never charged us for the first round. So, like, we figured beer was complimentary for the band. Well, I'll just go out and take up a collection from the boys. I sure would appreciate it. I say this trip is nowhere, man. I say we gotta quit. What? Quit? I wish you guys would make up your mind. Otherwise I gotta call Mr Ronzini at the Holiday Inn to get our old gig back. Back at the Armada Room? Listen, they want us to pay for the beer we drank. So you'd better split. The next gig is gonna be dynamite! Huge! You'll see. I say we give the Blues Brothers just one more chance. Why not? If the shit fits, wear it! Scoot over, goddam it! Boys look a little upset. Hey, man. Don't worry. We got a couple of days. We'll get the Penguin's tax money. I mean, look. We got an appointment to see Mr Sline tomorrow. Everything's gonna be all right. Let's skate. Goddam it. Excuse me. Are you the Good Ole Boys? That's right. I'm Tucker McElroy, lead singer, driver of the Winnebago. I'd like to talk to you, but we're running very late. I'm Jacob Stein, American Federation of Musicians Union, Local 200. I've been sent here to see if you're carrying your permits. Our what? Your union cards. May I see your cards, please? Suppose we ain't got no union cards, and we go in and start playing anyway? What you gonna do about that? You gonna stop us? Stein! You gonna look funny trying to eat corn on the cob with no fucking teeth! Listen, let me talk to Bob, the owner. See if we can put your band on contract waivers for tonight. I don't want you to move from this spot. Just let me handle this. We'll talk to Bob. Get in the car and start her up. You know you boys owe me a lot of money for that beer you drank! - Goddam it! - Bob, we loved playing here tonight. My brother's writing out an American Express traveller's check... to cover the bar tab. I sure would appreciate it. I'd better check up, see how he's doing. I have to sign it too. I usually sit in the car and write it out on the glove compartment lid. Need a pencil. - Were them guys from the union? - What the hell, " union"? Those boys skipped out of here owing me a lot of money for beer. What the hell are you guys all dressed up for? We're the Good Ole Boys! You're the Good Ole Boys? " A.F.M." Shit! Our Lady of Blessed Acceleration, don't fail me now! I don't believe it! It's that shit-box Dodge again. The bastards are ours now! Holy shit! Boys, you in big trouble. Maury, you owe me. We'll play anywhere, anytime, for anybody. Put us in the Double Up Lounge, or the Morgan Park Theatre, or the Crystal. We always knocked them dead in those joints. Discos. They ------------------------------ Читайте также: - текст Кобра на английском - текст Помутнение на английском - текст Антикиллер 2: Антитеррор на английском - текст Майами Блюз на английском - текст Курица на ветру на английском |