Ed Miller: I was with a girl once. Wasn't a squaw, but she was purty. She had yellow hair, like uh... oh, like something.
Dick Liddil: Like hair bobbed from a ray of sunlight?
Ed Miller: Yeah, yeah. Like that. Boy, you talk good.
Dick Liddil: You can hide things in vocabulary.
Ed Miller: Maybe you and me could write her a note, send it by post?
Dick Liddil: See, all you gotta do, Ed, is predict her needs and beat her to the punch.
Ed Miller: Well, this girl, she had a real specific job.
Dick Liddil: Specific?
Ed Miller: We's only together once. She's afraid of lightning. She came up into the wagon and just cuddled right up to me. She gave me a kind price, too.
Dick Liddil: Well I'll be! That is specific.
Ed Miller: Yeah, sure, she been with other people. But the kinds of things she said to me, people just don't say unless they really mean it.
Dick Liddil: "My love said she would marry only me, and Jove himself could not make her care, for what women say to lovers, you'll agree, one writes on running water, or on air."
Ed Miller: My God that's good. Let's write her that.
Dick Liddil: Naw. Poetry don't work on whores.
Dick Liddil: Like hair bobbed from a ray of sunlight?
Ed Miller: Yeah, yeah. Like that. Boy, you talk good.
Dick Liddil: You can hide things in vocabulary.
Ed Miller: Maybe you and me could write her a note, send it by post?
Dick Liddil: See, all you gotta do, Ed, is predict her needs and beat her to the punch.
Ed Miller: Well, this girl, she had a real specific job.
Dick Liddil: Specific?
Ed Miller: We's only together once. She's afraid of lightning. She came up into the wagon and just cuddled right up to me. She gave me a kind price, too.
Dick Liddil: Well I'll be! That is specific.
Ed Miller: Yeah, sure, she been with other people. But the kinds of things she said to me, people just don't say unless they really mean it.
Dick Liddil: "My love said she would marry only me, and Jove himself could not make her care, for what women say to lovers, you'll agree, one writes on running water, or on air."
Ed Miller: My God that's good. Let's write her that.
Dick Liddil: Naw. Poetry don't work on whores.
Ed Miller : I was with a girl once. Wasn't a squaw, but she was purty. She had yellow hair, like uh... oh, like something.
Dick Liddil : Like hair bobbed from a ray of sunlight?
Ed Miller : Yeah, yeah. Like that. Boy, you talk good.
Dick Liddil : You can hide things in vocabulary.
Ed Miller : Maybe you and me could write her a note, send it by post?
Dick Liddil : See, all you gotta do, Ed, is predict her needs and beat her to the punch.
Ed Miller : Well, this girl, she had a real specific job.
Dick Liddil : Specific?
Ed Miller : We's only together once. She's afraid of lightning. She came up into the wagon and just cuddled right up to me. She gave me a kind price, too.
Dick Liddil : Well I'll be! That is specific.
Ed Miller : Yeah, sure, she been with other people. But the kinds of things she said to me, people just don't say unless they really mean it.
Dick Liddil : "My love said she would marry only me, and Jove himself could not make her care, for what women say to lovers, you'll agree, one writes on running water, or on air."
Ed Miller : My God that's good. Let's write her that.
Dick Liddil : Naw. Poetry don't work on whores.
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