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THE WHITE KNIGHT (Jay Huguely) Cledus Maggard & The Citizens Band - 1975 Down on Seventy-Five or Ninety-Five or I-Twenty t'other way, Turn your squelch to the right and in the night, you'll hear some cotton-picker say, "Breaker breaker, got a picture-taker, ol' Smokey's at forty-three!" It's that Japanese toy, the trucker's joy that everybody calls CB. Yeah, Citizens Band. Keeps you up to date with the fender-benders and the Tijuana taxis and all them bears out there a-flip-floppin'. Now ahead o' your children and ahead o' your wife on the list of the ten best things in life, Your CB's gotta rate right around number four. 'Course, beavers 'n hot biscuits 'n Merle Haggard come one-two-three, you know. Well I was loaded down comin' outta Lake City checkin' out seat covers all young and pretty. My wife was right and I settled for the night, that ol' concrete boulevard a-feelin' right. My ol' buddy in the back was a-gettin' some sack; I was gonna bring it on to Macon 'fore I climbed in the back. Yeah, I had all my eight-tracks by my side from Dolly Parton to Charley Pride. My stereo a-rattlin' on the dash with Johnny Cash and all that good trash. Yeah, culture with a side order of ritz! When all of a sudden there come a squall over my CB ringin' wall to wall, Said "Go to double nickels as you hit the ridge, 'Cause there's a smokey picture-taker t'other side o' the bridge!" "Oh, mercy! 'Preciate that, good buddy. Uh, what's your handle there, come on? Come on?" Mm-hmm... Well they was nary a sound, and I was bound to think he done switched over to four, When wall to wall there come a call in a voice you couldn't ignoure. And he said, "Ten-four, back door. Put the pedal to the metal and let it roar. Hammer down to Macon Town, gonna see my mama, sure. Well the Bears are gone, let's bring it on, the Georgia line's way outta sight. Pulled outta Richmond Town last Saturday night, and my handle is the Whight Knight. How 'bout it?" "Hey ol' buddy, I'm the Mean Machine. What's your twenty and what's your eighteen? Grease it up and shoout me some more, 'Cause I sure believe you're my front door! Come on?" "Ten-four, back door. Put the pedal to the metal and let it roar. Hammer down to Macon Town, gonna see my mama, sure. Well a GMC my eighteen be, and the last mile marker was a fifty-three. Pulled outta Richmond Town last Saturday night, and my handle is the Whight Knight. How 'bout it?" "All right, White Knight, hammer down!" Well there I was a-streakin', my needle was a-peakin' right around seventy-nine. That ol' diesel juice was a-gettin' loose and everything was fine! Oh yeah! Sing, Dolly! Sing, Loretta! Sing it, darlin's! Mm-hmm. When wall to wall, I got a call from a front door big bear trapper. He said, "Break one-nine, good buddy o' mine, you got a smokey in a plain white wrapper!" Well I jammed my stick and lost twenty quick, you could hear them gears a-tearin'. I was passed by a beaver in a Camaro, and I was cruisin' along a-goin' so slow I could count every button on that frilly blouse she was a-wearin'. 'Course, they weren't but one. "Hey there, Super Trooper." Yeah, that's that crafty smokey over there with a CB o' his very own. "Who, me? Noooooo, Smokey! Got grapefruit comin from F-L-A. Can't shake them up, boy. Nooo, goin' double nickels all the way! Hey, White Knight! Hey, front door, Let's slide one off o' Super Trooper here and show him what's happenin' up there. Come on?" And he said, "Ten-four, back door. Put the pedal to the metal and let it roar. Hammer down to Macon Town, gonna see my mama, sure. Well the bears are gone, let's bring it on, the Georgia line's way outta sight. Gotta get to Macon 'fore the middle o' the night, and my handle is the Whight Knight. How 'bout it?" Well I hammered down 'cause I figured that clown knew more about it than me. I was puttin' it to it, and before I knew it I was doin' 'round eighty-three. When I got a call just got my gall; White Knight was a-talkin' to me, and he said, "Ten-four, back door. Put the pedal to the metal, what'cha waitin' for? If that ol' white can't stay in sight, gonna leave you here 'n say no more How 'bout it?" "WHOOOA now, ol' buddy, that's fightin' talk! Now say things about my wife or my religion, but don't go gettin' nasty 'bout my rig now! I'll come up there 'n blow your doors off!" Sing that mad tune there, Buck! Well I hammered down like I had wings, little gravels in my wheels goin' ping-ping-ping. I was hittin' ninety with a might heavy load, blew a Greyhound Bus clean off o' the road. 'Bout the time I hit ninety-two I saw somethin' flashin' in my rear view. Thoght to myself, "That can't be true," but there it was a-goin' blue-blue-blue! Uh-oh... Bubble gum machine done hit the jackpot! That's what it was, big ol' redneck whip right there on Smokey's car goin' twangy- twangy- twangy- twangy. Play me a sad song there, Johnny. Well I could see that bear a-laughin' big, just a hangin' in tight on the back o' my rig When all of a sudden it come to me wall to wall. So in that cold dark Georgia night in the shadow o' Smokey Bear's blue light I decided to make just one more CB call... "Break one-nine for the Super Trooper. Hey there, Super Trooper, tell me if I'm right, Are you my front door? Are you the White Knight? Come on?" And he said, "Ten-four, back door. You in a heap o' trouble, boy, fer sure. Gonna read you your rights and treat you fair; just pull over there with yer rockin' chair. Want you boys to know each other real well 'Cause you gonna be sharin' the same jail cell. You make twelve cotton-pickers I've caught tonight Runnin' front door as that White Knight! [snicker] How 'bout it? [snicker] Forty miles over the speed limit; you boys gon' be here a while!" [snicker] That's it, cotton-pickers, I've done been grounded, My tail in jail and my rig impounded. Called the boss for bond in Big A Town; he said "You got in there, you get out, clown! You lookin' for more than a bond, boy, you ain't got no job!" I said, "Well boss, it's been nice doin' business with you. Just keep it between the ditches. Sevens, threes, 'n all them good numbers to you, 'n boss, If you would do me one favor I... I wonder if you'd call my wife and tell her I won't be there Saturday to take the kids to no Little League nowhere now. Tell her maybe she'd better look into that job what she was offered, 'n Tell her just go ahead and get my friend a leave of action to the VFW. "And boss, before my replacement takes this rig out, Tell him when he's travellin' through the dark Georgia night, Don't never get no front door called the White Knight! No sir, 'n wind up in the pokey with Smokey? Best thing you can do with that ol' thing is yank it out by the wires. I don't care if it is a Johnson Sing me a sad tune there, Johnny. "Oh Lordy mercy! Where am I gonna get two hundred 'n fifty green stamps to get outta this pokey? Oh Lordy..." (Contributed by - June 2008)

    


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