Original subtitles

Green acres is the place to be

Farm living is the life for me

Land spreading out so far and wide

Keep Manhattan, just give me that countryside

New York is where I'd rather stay

I get allergic smelling hay

I just adore a penthouse view

Darling I love you, but give me Park Avenue

The chores, the stores, fresh air, times square

You are my wife, goodbye city life

Green Acres we are there

- Hi, Lisa, did you see?

- Oh, good morning dear.

- Good morning, did you see.

- Aren't you going to give me a kiss?

- Did you see.

- One thing is for sure, you are not a sex fiend.

You always used to kiss me on the lips.

- Yes, but now.

- These are lips.

- I think you have them on upside down.

- I do?

Where's a mirror?

- Lisa, have you seen my gray suit?

- What does it look like?

- Gray, with a little pin stripe.

- And it has spaghetti sauce on the lapel.

- That's the one.

- It's in the washing machine.

- The wash?

I told you to have it dry cleaned.

- Well, I didn't put any water in it, just soap powder.

- Oh, Lisa, for crying out, look.

Look, leave my clothes alone after this.

- Now I'm sorry that I washed your sweater.

- My good sweater, you didn't put that

in the washing machine.

- No, I put it in the dishwasher, because it needed water.

And I was dry cleaning in the washing machine.

- Lisa, you're not supposed to put that sweater

in any kind of machine.

Didn't you see what it said on the label, hand wash.

- I washed my hands before I put it in.

- If I could be sure of getting an all male jury.

- What does that mean?

- It means.

- Good morning folks, are you ready to,

ooh, you had your suit dry cleaned.

It came out good.

- Look, Eb.

- There ain't no more spaghetti spots on the lapels.

- And you were complaining.

- Of course I was.

- Are you two gonna stand there a arguing?

We're wasting time, we gotta go.

- Go where?

- To Drucker's store.

- What for?

- Don't you know what today is?

Old mail day.

- What is that?

- Well, every year about this time Mr. Drucker

cleans out his post office, and finds all the old mail

that's fallen down behind the counter,

or gotten stuck in the back of a drawer.

Or fell through the cracks in the floor.

And he gives it out to whoever it belongs to.

- I've never heard of such a thing.

- Didn't you ever have old mail day in New York?

- No, we didn't.

- No wonder you moved out here to the country.

To have some fun.

- Eb, I don't think.

- Come on, who knows what surprises are in store for us

in the old mail pouch.

- Howdy folks.

- Hello there, Mr. Haney.

- Say, we didn't miss the old mail day ceremonies, did we?

- No sir, you're the first ones here.

May I assist you.

- Oh, thank you.

- Dog gone it if you don't look as pretty

as a chipmunk in a sack of chestnuts.

- Oliver, did you hear that?

- I heard it, but it doesn't make any sense.

- If Will Rogers had said it, you would have applauded.

- Possibly, now would you please close the door

so that I can park the car.

- If you get out, I'll be glad to park it for you.

- Oh thank you.

- For one dollar.

- I'll park it myself.

- Over there.

That'll be two dollars.

- For what.

- Parking, I've got the concession.

- I'm not paying anything, this is a public street.

Parking is free.

- Suit yourself, you wanna give me eight dollars now

or when they tow your car away?

- If anybody touches this car.

- Doggone it, you're as grouchy

as a congressman with a desk full of grunion.

You can applaud, that's one Will Rogers did say.

- Bye.

Oh hi, Ralph.

- Howdy doody, may I be the first to wish you

a happy old mail day.

- Oh, thank you.

- I can hardly wait to see what goodies I'm going to get.

Last old mail day I got a valentine from Richard Burton.

- You got a.

- It was returned, I didn't put enough postage on it.

- Well that was a lucky break for Liz.

- Yeah, it mighta busted them up.

- Yeah, I'm sure it would have.

- Hi Mr. Douglas, Mrs. Douglass.

- Oh, that's not Mrs. Douglass.

- Oh, I guess it isn't.

Who is it?

- It's Ralph Monroe.

Hi Hanky, been up to any panky?

- Good luck, Kimball.

- Friends, Mr. Drucker says he'll be out in a few minutes

for the old mail day ceremony.

- Ceremony?

- And Mr. Drucker wants to know if you're going to buggle.

- What's a buggle?

- Don't go away.

- Lisa, would you please tell Mr. Drucker.

- That's a buggle.

- If you do that again Ralph, I'll.

- Hi, Mr. Douglas, happy old mail day.

- Yes, hello, there.

- Has the ceremony started yet?

- No, not yet.

- Well, I thought I heard somebody blow the buggle.

- It's not a buggle, it's a bugle.

- Does that sound like a bugle to you?

- Ralph, if you don't quit.

- Now, what's the matter with him?

- You've got your car parked

where he always parks his bicycle.

He parks his.

- Folks, folks, could I have your attention please.

The old mail day ceremony is about to begin.

Ralph, could we have a fanfare on your buggle?

- Oh, yes, sir.

- Thank you, Eb, bring out the old mail.

- Here you are.

- Now, for the benefit of those who have never witnessed

an old mail day ceremony, I'd like to explain

just what old mail day is.

- Oh yes, I know you know what it is,

but there's people here that don't

- Old mail day is a day I clean out my store

and my post office, and gather together

all the old mail that's gone astray,

or been misplaced, or temporarily lost.

Now, up to now, the oldest letter I'd found

has been dated 1942.

- That's 26 years ago.

- Yep, and I'm happy to tell you that

that record has been broken.

Fred, would you read the post mark on this letter

addressed to you?

- August the 12th, 1917.

- That's over 50 years ago.

- Yeah, I found it behind a case of eight button spats.

Which will go on sale immediately following this ceremony.

- Doggone.

- What is it, Mr. Ziffel?

- I've been drafted.

- Drafted?

- Says right here, that I am to report

to Camp Yuphank, not later than August the 28th,

and it's signed by Woodrow Wilson.

- Oh, Haney, here's a letter for you.

Found it when I drained the pickle barrel.

And here's one for your, Eb.

- Golly.

- Oh, this is for Arnold Ziffel.

I've been using it to prop up the short leg

of my table.

- FBI and Novelty Company, what's this?

Oh, that's that fingerprint kit you sent for

three years ago.

- I don't believe this is happening.

I'm gonna wake up.

- Mr. Douglas, I need some legal advice.

This here's a threatening letter from the WPA.

- The WPA?

They've been out of existence for.

- Now, they say they're gonna sue me

unless I return their shovel.

Can they do that?

- How can they do?

- Oh Mr. Douglas, here's a letter for you.

- And you see you didn't want to come.

- Hey, this was mailed almost a year ago.

- Yeah, it fell in the flour barrel.

The weevils didn't get it, did they?

- Is that from your mother?

- It's from my stockbroker.

This is to inform you that since we did not receive

an answer to our letter of January fourth,

we're closing out your margin account, and,

I didn't receive a letter from them.

- What was that date again?

- January the fourth.

- Oh, here you are.

- Do you know what this means?

I've lost $300.00.

- You shouldn't carry that much money around with you.

- I didn't.

- Don't panic, we'll help you find it.

- Was it $300 all in one bill?

- No, I, this so called post office is a farce.

If the mail were delivered it wouldn't get lost.

What I want to know is why it isn't delivered.

- To whom?

- To us.

- Well, why should we get everybody's mail.

- I didn't mean everybody's.

- Mr. Douglas, the reason the mail isn't delivered

is because this is a class 3ND substation.

The ND stands for no delivery.

- Can we change that and have it delivered?

- I like it like it is, kept me out of the draft.

- Yes, but I.

- Got me an eight dollar shovel.

- But I lost $300.

- Well, if anybody finds it, I'm sure they'll turn it in.

- Mr. Douglas, I wouldn't mind delivering the mail,

except I'm too busy.

You see, this post office is just an accommodation

for my customers.

- Well, couldn't you hire somebody

to deliver the mail for you?

- Yeah, if we could get them to change the classification

from a 3NB to a 2MDHD, that stands for a post office

with a mailman to help deliver.

- Then why don't we have it changed.

I'll write a letter to the post master general.

- Why don't you leave well enough alone.

- Mr. Ziffel, the American farmer didn't get

where he is today by leaving well enough alone.

When a change was needed, he was the first

to step forward and demand action.

He fired the first shot at Concord.

And when the wind eroded his soil in the dust bowl,

he was the first to move on to greener pastures.

And when the floods came, he didn't stand there

in the paths of the raging waters.

He swam to higher ground and started all over.

The American farmer.

- Oliver.

- Yes, the American farmer.

- Oliver.

- What?

- How long are you going to go on talking to yourself?

- Oh.

- Everybody left, including the fife player.

Oliver, you're not really

going to write that letter, are you?

- Yes, I am.

- But, nobody wants the post office changed except you, do.

- They all want it, they're just too lazy

to make the effort.

Now, where did I put that?

- What?

- My portable typewriter.

- What does it look like?

- Well it has keys, and a roller where you put the paper in.

- Oh, oh, in Hungary we call that the player piano.

- Well here we call it a portable typewriter.

And it's about this big, and it's in a bound case.

- Oh, oh, I put that in the refrigerator.

- What for?

- To keep it cold.

- Lisa, you do the silliest things.

- Now, don't have one of your temper transoms.

- Tremper trantrum, a trench.

- You know, for somebody who was born in this country

you don't speak the language very well.

There.

- Oh, thank you, now don't ever do.

What the, happy birthday Carl Funkweiler?

- Isn't that pretty?

- Who is Carl Funkweiler?

- I don't know, he ordered the cake,

and then he didn't show up so the bakery put it on sale.

And I bought it for two dollars, with a dozen paper plates

included.

- Well, what did you put it in my typewriter case for?

- Oh is that what it is.

In Hungary, we call this a cake box.

- I don't care what you call it in Hungary.

What did you do with my piano play, er, uh, typewriter?

- Oh, I lend that to Eb.

- Lent what to me?

- My portable typewriter.

- What did it look like?

- It had keys and a roller you put the paper in.

- Oh, you mean a player piano.

- See.

- Where did you leave it?

- It was right in here.

- You keep your player piano in a cake box?

- Eb, it's.

- Hey, it's Carl Funkweiler's birthday.

We giving him a party?

- No, no, no, his party was canceled,

that's why I got the cake for.

- Eb where's my typewriter?

- Let's see, oh I remember, I used it

to write a letter to my girlfriend.

- Get it for me?

- I can't.

- Why not?

- I sent it to her so she could write me an answer.

- Eb!

Look, forget it, I'll write the letter in long hand.

- What letter?

- He's writing to the post general master.

- The general post master, the general master poster.

- For a fella that was born here, you sure have

a lot of trouble with the language.

- That's what I said.

- Look, I don't care what you said.

- He's gonna have a temper transom.

- No!

- Just for that, you don't get any Carl Funkweiler cake.

Would you like to have a piece, Eb?

- Please.

- The post master general, Washington DC.

- That's right.

- Are you sure you wanna send this?

- Positive.

- Do you remember the last time

you wrote a complaining letter?

- To whom?

- Take your pick, they were all disasters.

- Oh, that's not.

- It was two weeks to get our lights back on

when you wrote to the electric company.

- Well, that was.

- We didn't get any water for a month

after you wrote to the water company.

- Yes, well.

- And there was the school bus fiasco,

and the condemned bridge fiasco,

and the, well, you name it and it was a fiasco.

- Believe me, nothing is going to happen this time.

- Why don't you just sleep on it.

- No, will you just mail that letter, please, air mail.

Yes, sir, air mail.

- Oliver, what's that?

- That's a dirigible.

- What do they use them for.

- Probably to carry the air mail from Hooterville.

It's been three weeks since I sent

that letter to Washington.

- Oh well, maybe you'll get an answer next old mail day.

- I'm not gonna wait until old mail day.

- Mr. Douglas, the telephone's ringing.

- Well, answer it.

- It's for you.

- How do you know?

- It's your type of ring, mine is sweeter.

- Eb, will you just answer it?

- It's Mr. Drucker, he wants to see you.

- How do you know without answering it?

- Well, I stopped by his store an hour ago,

and he told me to tell you he wanted to see ya.

And if you didn't show up in an hour

he'd call, because he'd know I'd forgotten

to give you the message, which I did.

- Have you any idea what he wanted to see me about?

- I'll tell you what I wanted to see you about.

- I got an answer to that letter you wrote to Washington.

- Uh huh.

- They changed my classification.

This post office is now authorized to deliver mail.

We're a full-fledged class 2PB dash BB.

- Congratulations.

- Thank you, oh by the way, do you know 2PB stands for?

- No.

- Postmaster delivers.

- What?

- This post office don't gross enough to warrant

hiring somebody else to do the delivering.

- Oh, well.

- If I was a younger man, I'd punch you right in the nose.

- Oh, now, Mr. Drucker.

- I haven't got time to discuss it.

I gotta go practice pedaling.

- Pedaling?

- That's what the dash BB stands for.

Post master delivers by bicycle.

- You know Eb, this is something I've always dreamed about.

Having my own farm and my own mailbox

by the side of the road.

- To think, I've wasted my dreams

on such dull stuff as Sophia Loren.

- Eb, stop shaking the box.

- My hand always trembles when I think of Sophia.

Hey, how about putting her name on here

instead of yours.

I'd bet we'd get a lot more interesting mail.

- Eb, just finish the.

- I have, how are you doing, Mr. Douglas?

- Fine.

- Uh oh.

- What's the matter?

- You made a mistake.

- Where?

- There's no O in Douglas.

- There most certainly is.

- There ain't on my side.

- How could you make a mistake like that?

You must have seen my name a hundred times.

- Never on a mailbox.

Oliver, did Mr. Drucker bring the mail yet?

- No, no, not yet.

- No, oh, who painted that?

- I did.

- Well, why did you put the O in Douglas?

- Because there is an O in Douglas.

- Not on my side.

- Eb, look.

Oh, here comes our first delivery.

Howdy.

- Hello, Mr. Drucker.

- Hi, Eb, hello Mrs. Douglas.

- How do you do, Mr. Drucker?

- If I had any strength left

I'd punch you right in the nose.

- Now, see.

- I've pedaled this thing 62 miles today.

- Wow, I.

- My back hurts, my legs hurt,

ain't nothing that don't hurt.

- Well, you know who you can blame for that.

- Yeah, I know.

- Have you got any mail for us?

- Yeah, I.

Oh, these letters are for Douglas with an O.

Maybe there'll be something for you tomorrow.

- Wait, wait, wait a second here.

- Oh, Eb will you correct that?

- Do you think Mr. Drucker will stop by today?

- He'd better.

- He was pretty angry with you.

Making you put an O in your name.

- Lisa, there is an O in.

- Oh, hello Mr. Drucker.

- Hello.

- Do you notice the name on the box?

- Yeah.

- Is that acceptable to you?

- Oh fine.

- And may I have my mail?

- Yeah here, oh, what time is it?

- It's 10 after four.

- Oh, sorry.

- What are you.

- Regulations, a class 2PD-BB post office

only delivers mail between the hours of eight am

and four pm.

- That's the most.

- Better luck tomorrow.

- Oliver, Oliver, where are you going?

- I'm going into Drucker's to pick up the mail.

I'm sick of this nonsense.

For five days he's found excuses not to deliver the mail.

It was too late, the name wasn't spelled right,

the box wasn't the right height.

- Well, it's all your own fault.

Every time you write a letter, it's another fiesta.

- No, not a fiesta, a fiasco, fia, fia, I'll see you later.

- Oh, darling, while you're at Drucker's

would you pick up a few pieces of groceries?

We don't have anything thing in the house

except a stale piece of Carl Funkweiler's cake.

- Okay.

- Oh, and another thing, haven't you forgotten something?

- What?

- To kiss me goodbye.

Where did you learn to kiss this way?

- From my sister.

Good morning.

- Anyone wanna say good morning to the fink?

- Fink?

- Well, what would you call somebody

that brings starvation and suffering to the valley.

- Who's starving?

- We are, well, we're not starving.

We just haven't had anything to eat for a week,

and yes, I guess we are starving.

- And you had to write the post office department

to get the mail delivered.

- What's wrong with that?

- Sam's so busy delivering it from eight to four

and linimenting his legs from four to ten,

he hasn't got time to open up the store.

We can't buy any food.

- Why don't you go up to Picksley and shop?

- Leave it to him to make a stupid suggestion like that.

- What's so stupid about shopping in Picksley?

- They won't give us no credit.

You gotta pay cash for everything.

- Well then pay cash?

- There ain't been no cash in this valley since 1927.

- Well, at least you're getting your mail delivered.

- What good does that do?

We're too weak to open it.

- Look, I'm sorry, I didn't know

it was going to turn out this way.

- What way?

- Instead of having all this talking, let's get some action.

Haney, go see if the tar is boiling yet.

- Yes, sir.

- What tar?

Will you hold still.

- What are you doing?

- Measuring you.

I say about five pounds of feathers ought to cover him.

- Now, look here.

- If the store was open we was gonna buy a rope.

Well, we weren't gonna buy it.

We were gonna put it on credit.

- Oh, for the love of.

Look, if you don't want the mail delivered,

I'll write to the post master general

and have him change the post office

back to its former status.

- Well, you'd better, and tell him there's 28 families

in this valley that'd rather eat

than have the mail delivered.

- Would you mind telling me what you're doing?

- I'm chopping and humming.

♪ La da dee

- It's nice to see a man that's happy with his work.

- I sure am.

- Will you stop that?

- The chopping or the humming?

- Both.

- Well, you won't be needing this mailbox anymore.

I got an answer to your letter from the post master general.

This is my last delivery.

- Well, I guess everybody's pretty happy about that.

- Oh no they aren't, now folks gotta go

all the way to Picksley to get their mail.

- Picksley?

- Thanks to your letter they closed down my post office.

- Well, you've done it again, another fiasco.

- A fiesta, fiesta, uh, why did they close the post office?

- Well, it seems that you mentioned in your letter

that there are 28 families in Hooterville

using the post office.

- That's right.

- Well, section 212 of the postal code

clearly states that any community with less than 32 families

ain't entitled to a post office.

So, folks have to go to the nearest 32 family town,

which in this case happens to be Picksley.

- They can't get away with this.

I'll write them another letter.

- Where are you going to mail the letter?

- Picksley.

- Oh, say, while you're there would you do me a favor?

Would you go into the wholesale house

and tell them to send me another 50 pounds of tar,

and six bags of feathers.

I've had a big run on them this morning.

Bye.

- Oliver, what does everybody want tar for?

- They're just trying to frighten me.

Every time something happens

they threaten to tar and feather me.

- Oh, they did that to my uncle.

They put tar and feathers on him,

and my aunt saw him and fell in love with him.

- What?

- She was a nearsighted robin.

This has been a Filmways presentation, darling