After some delay in Vermont, a doo-wop band steps on it in Massachusetts. The sheriff says, “hi.” Instead of a fine, they get a pitch that sounds too good to be true. They still follow the old man to his turf, near a quaint barn.
His second-time wife greets them by milking their molasses. With her man watching, she gets stripped amid the brown boys. The doo-woppers shake, rattle and roll her white meat. Rock ’n’ roll isn’t their meat, but they love her high-pitched singing as they keep banging her on the barn floor.
The neighbor’s wife shows up for some sugar. She gets molasses too.
