Yeah, they come down Main Street, drums a flailing
Sirens a-wailin', what a roar
Bands are a-playin' and flags are a-wavin'
And the vanguard’s a motorcycle corps
Clowns are a-clownin' through the crowd and pinchin'
Every pretty girl who dares to smile
It’s a glorious mess, everybody wears a fez
The parade stretches out for miles
(Chorus)
It’s a typical American phenomenon
Where all the members have a fine old time
It’s the forty-third annual convention
Of the Grand Mystic Royal Order
Of the Nobles of the Ali Baba Temple of the Shrine
Meanwhile back at the motel...
(Spoken)
Operator, give me room three-twenty-one, please
Hello? Noble Lumpkin?
This here’s the 'Lust'er's Potentate
I said it’s the 'Lustr'ous Potentate
The Illustr'ous--Coy, dad-blame it, this here’s Bubba. Coy, why ain't you at the parade?
What? Well, how'd you get that big Harley up there in your room?
What?
I cain't hear ya, Coy, quit revvin' it up, boy. Turn it off
I just want you to know one thing--you have embarr’ssed us all, the whole Hahira delegation
Now, I'll see you at the banquet, son, and you be there, Coy, you hear me?
Black tie, seb'n o'clock. Be there, Coy!
And Coy...don't answer the phone Uddn'uddn
Well, it was all arranged by the ladies' auxiliary
In the downtown convention hall
Cold roast beef, string beans, mashed potatoes
And nine boring speeches in all
And all the tables looked fine with their Mogen David wine
And chrysanthemums on each side
And the Hahira leaders in their rented tuxedos
Made the local hearts swell with pride
(Chorus)
Meanwhile back at the motel...
(Spoken)
Operator? Three-twenty-one, please. Thank you
Hello, Coy, what are you doin'?
Whaddaya mean, who is this? This is Bubba
Why wasn't you at the banquet?
Whaddaya mean, all you had to wear was a Hawaiian flowerdy shirt?
Well, you may think you're foolin' some people, but I know what’s goin' on. Everybody’s seen the little red-head. That’s right, ever'body. Why, she come runnin' through the dinner, right in the middle of the pineapple sherbert; didn't have nothin' on but yer fez, Coy
Coy, you the only one’s GOT a fez with a propeller on top!
Yeah. Yeah, yeah, and she’s yellin' out the secret code, too, Coy. We gon' have to change it now
Dad blame it, Coy, we goin' have to have a special meetin' when we get to Hahira about yer conduct at this here convention. Embarrassing
Now Coy, you be at the secret conclave tonight, you hear me? And keep it a secret. Hoo!
Well, it was a secret meeting in the dead of the night
With mysterious sanctimony
In accordance with prescribed rituals
A time-honored ceremony
Matters of grave concern were weighed with dedicated caution
Like whether or not to raise at stud
Or draw at spit-in-the-ocean
(Chorus)
Meanwhile back at the motel...
(Spoken)
Operator, room three-twenty--h-how'd you know? Oh
Hello, Coy? Where h-have you been?
No-o-o, you wasn't at the meeting
Well, I found out that at three o'clock this morning you’s out there in your Fruit-Of-The-Looms in the motel swimmin' pool, bunch o' them waitresses from the cocktail hour
Huh, I just hope your mama don't find out about this, Coy. What?
Well, how'd you get that big motorsickle up there ON the high dive, Coy? Now Coy, dad burnit, that ain't no way to act; we s'posed to be pillars of the community!
'N we get back to Hahira, you can just turn in your ring and your tie-tack, 'cause Coy, you are OUT of the Shrine
You gon' be blackballed, Coy! That’s right, you may have t' pack yer bags and leave town!
What do you mean, you might join the Hell’s Angels?
Coy, hoo, don't you hang up on me. No, don't you crank that motorsickle! Who’s that gigglin' in the background, Coy?
Hello? Hello? Operator, we’s cut off!
Yeah, room three-twenty-one!
Dad blame it Coy!
You don't hang up on the illustrious Potentate!
I said the illustrious Potentate!
This is Bubba! Bubba!
COY!!!
(SCREAMS!!!)
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