A Frozen Christmas 2 (2017) Movie Script
1
Ho, ho, ho.
Merry Christmas, Barnaby.
Ho, ho, ho. I hope you're having
a blast this Christmas Eve.
This new souped-up sleigh
is sure a lot of fun.
Yeah, Santa, this was the most fun
I've ever had on all Christmases ever.
A day to remember.
Say, Santa, are we done
with delivering all the presents
to all the good children
of the world?
All done, and in record time.
Where are we off to now, Santa?
I hope there's more fun
to be had.
He, he, he. Ho, ho, ho.
You got that right, Barnaby.
There's a ton more fun
to be had.
The day's not over yet.
We're heading back home to celebrate this
Christmas with all our dear friends.
Are you saying
we're gonna have a party, Santa?
That would be so awesome.
He, he. Ho, ho.
It's gonna be
an amazing Christmas bash.
There's gonna be storytellers and
dancing and music and sing-alongs.
Ho, ho, ho.
That sounds like
a total fun time, Santa.
A great time indeed.
Well, what are we waiting for?
Off to the festivities we go.
Ho, ho, ho.
Ho, we made it. Ho, ho.
And the party is in full swing.
Swinging and ringing.
Hey, look over there.
It's my best pal,
Jimmy the Gingerbread Man.
Oh, he's having
a time of his life,
dancin' away.
Merry Christmas, Jimmy,
and a Happy New Year.
Whoa. I never knew
Jimmy was such a great dancer.
Well, check it out, Barnaby.
That's our pal, Alfie the Elf,
dancing the Merry Macarena.
Dancing and ringing
the New Year away.
Merry Christmas, Alfie,
and a Happy New Year.
Well, what do you know, it's the
coolest dancer in the North Pole.
Hey, it's Nutty the Nutcracker.
He's nuts and nuttier,
but what a dancer.
Merry Christmas, Nutty,
and a Happy New Year to ya.
Hey, look over yonder.
It's Slinky the baby Squirrel
dancin' up
a squirrel of a storm.
Ho, ho, ho.
Merry Christmas, Slinky.
Aww, cute Slinky.
Hey, Barnaby, what do you say,
we go and listen
to an amazing Christmas story?
Who'll tell us one?
I have an idea.
Let's go see Horace the Horse.
He's a great storyteller,
and he'll tell us
a marvelous Christmas story.
Let's go.
Hey, Horace, we're here to listen
to a great Christmas story.
Yeah, we hear
you're an amazing storyteller.
Will you tell us one?
My pleasure, Santa and Barnaby.
I have a great story.
Here is how it goes.
Two little children were sitting by
the fire on one cold winter's night.
All at once they heard
a timid knock at the door.
And one ran to open it.
There, outside in
the cold and the darkness,
stood a child with no shoes
upon his feet
and clad in thin,
ragged garments.
He was shivering with cold,
and he asked to come in
and warm himself.
"Yes, come,"
cried both the children.
"You shall have our place
by the fire. Come in."
They drew the little stranger
to their warm seat
and shared their supper with
him, and gave him their bed,
while they slept
on a hard bench.
In the night they were awakened
by strains of sweet music
and, looking out,
they saw a band of children
in shining garments
approaching the house.
They were playing
on golden harps,
and the air was full of melody.
Suddenly the Stranger Child
stood before them,
no longer cold and ragged,
but clad in silvery light.
His soft voice said,
"I was cold, and you took Me in.
"I was hungry, and you fed Me.
"I was tired,
and you gave Me your bed.
"I am the Christ Child,
wandering through the world
"to bring peace and happiness
to all good children.
As you have given to Me, so may this
tree every year give rich fruit to you."
So saying, He broke a branch from the
fir tree that grew near the door,
and He planted it
into the ground and disappeared.
But the branch grew
into a great tree,
and every year it bore wonderful
golden fruit for the kind children.
Thank you for
that amazing story, Horace.
Have a wonderful Christmas.
Ho, ho, ho.
See you next time, Horace.
Goodbye.
Ho, ho, ho. Look over there.
It's Benny the Beaver,
having the time of his life,
kickin' up those webbed feet.
Ho, ho, ho.
Merry Christmas, Benny.
Ho, ho, ho.
I was just sittin' up,
a-havin' my tea
Havin' my tea, havin' my tea
I saw a beautiful face
was lookin' up at me
Up at me, up at me
Oh, she had a cute smile
so I asked her name
Asked her name,
asked her name
Oh, we got to talkin'
said she felt the same
She feel the same,
she feel the same
Oh, every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Armadillo rinkety tang
But now she's focused on
is what she wants to be
Oh, what she wants to be
It's what she wants to be
She's cooking us a chicken
With a jug of tea
A jug of tea
- Oh, oh
- A jug of tea
I'm thankful for the day
she moved outta my door
I'm thankful for the day
she moved outta my door
Oh, I never thought I'd fall
for the girl next door
And I never thought I'd fall
For the girl next door
Oh, every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Oh, every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Armadillo rinkety tang
Armadillo rinkety tang
I was just sittin' up
a-havin' my tea
Havin' my tea, havin' my tea
I saw a beautiful face
was lookin' up at me
Up at me, up at me
Oh, she had a cute smile
so I asked her name
Asked her name,
asked her name
Oh, we got to talkin'
said she felt the same
She feel the same,
she feel the same
Oh, every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Armadillo rinkety tang
But now she's focused on
What she wants to be
Oh, what she wants to be
It's what she wants to be
She's cooking us a chicken
with a jug of tea
A jug of tea
- Oh, oh
- A jug of tea
I'm thankful for the day
she moved outta my door
I'm thankful for the day
she moved outta my door
Oh, I never thought I'd fall
for the girl next door
And I never thought I'd fall
for the girl next door
Oh, every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Oh, every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Armadillo rinkety tang
Armadillo rinkety tang
Wasn't Benny the Beaver
a great dancer?
I told you he was.
Total party animal.
If you pardon my pun, Santa.
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!
All right, let's go.
I hear the party is heatin' up
with the beehive.
Bzzz. I hear the buzzing.
Have a good time.
Who could it be
but Betty the Bee?
Ho, she's dancin' the day away.
Ho, ho, ho.
Merry Christmas, Betty.
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Buzz to the left
And buzz to the right
Do the hive dance
and have a buzz time
Look, over there, Barnaby.
Who goes yonder?
That's Danny Duck,
havin' a time.
Look at those duck legs go.
Ho, ho, ho.
Merry Christmas, Danny.
I think I know
where the most incredible dancer
of all time is performing today.
Rudolph the Rabbit is stomping those
big ol' bunny feet to a groovy tune.
Ho, ho, ho.
Merry Christmas, Rudolph.
Say, Barnaby, I'm in the mood
for a good Christmas story.
Oh, yeah, me, too.
Who will tell us
a great story, Santa?
I know just the ruminant who can
tell the most amazing stories.
Who would that be?
Let's go see
Silky the Christmas Cow.
Silky the Christmas Cow?
I love her. She's the best
storyteller in the world.
Ho, ho, ho. Indeed.
Ho, ho, ho.
Hey there, Silky.
Santa, do I have
a story for you.
Glad to hear that, Silky.
What story will it be?
What about one of my favorites?
It's called the "Three Kings"
and it goes like this...
Three kings came riding
from far away.
Melchior and Gaspar
and Balthazar.
Three Wise Men
out of the East were they,
and they traveled by night
and they slept by day,
for their guide was a beautiful,
wonderful star.
The star was so beautiful,
large, and clear,
that all the other stars of the sky
became a white mist in the atmosphere,
and by this they knew
that the coming was near
of the Prince foretold
in the prophecy.
Three caskets they bore
on their saddle-bows,
three caskets of gold
with golden keys,
their robes were of
crimson silk,
with rows of bells
and pomegranates and furbelows,
their turbans like
blossoming almond trees.
And so the Three Kings
rode into the West,
through the dusk of night,
over hill and dell,
and sometimes they nodded
with beard on breast
and sometimes talked,
as they paused to rest,
with the people they met
at some wayside well.
"Of the child that is born,"
said Balthazar,
"Good people, I pray you,
tell us the news,
"for we in the East have seen his star, and
have ridden fast, and have ridden far,
"to find and worship
the King of the Jews."
And the people answered,
"You ask in vain,
we know of no king
but Herod the Great."
They thought the Wise Men
were men insane,
as they spurred their horses
across the plain,
like riders in haste
who cannot wait.
And when they came to Jerusalem, Herod
the Great, who had heard this thing
sent for the Wise Men
and questioned them,
and said,
"Go down unto Bethlehem,
and bring me tidings
of this new king."
So they rode away,
and the star stood still,
the only one
in the gray of morn,
yet, it stopped, it stood still
of its own free will,
right over Bethlehem on the hill, the
city of David, where Christ was born.
And the Three Kings rode through
the gate and the guard,
through the silent street, till
their horses turned and neighed
as they entered
the great inn-yard,
but the windows were closed
and the doors were barred,
and only a light
in the stable burned.
And cradled there
in the scented hay,
in the air made sweet
by the breath of kine,
the little child
in the manger lay,
the child, that would be king one day
of a kingdom not human but divine.
His mother Mary of Nazareth sat
watching beside his place of rest,
watching the even flow
of his breath,
for the joy of life
and the terror of death
were mingled together
in her breast.
They laid their offerings
at his feet,
the gold was their tribute
to a King,
the frankincense,
with its odor sweet,
was for the Priest,
the Paraclete,
the myrrh
for the body's burying.
And the mother wondered
and bowed her head,
and sat as still
as a statue of stone,
her heart was troubled
yet comforted,
remembering what the Angel had said of
an endless reign and of David's throne.
Then the Kings rode out
of the city gate,
with a clatter of hoofs
in proud array,
but they went not back
to Herod the Great,
for they knew his malice
and feared his hate,
and returned to their homes
by another way.
Thank you, Silky. That was a great
Christmas story, if I've ever heard one.
It was indeed.
Ho, ho, ho. Off we go.
Hey, it's Parrot Pete.
He knows the way
to More-To-Be-Had.
Let's follow him. Fly high, fly
low, Parrot Pete, we're right with you.
Hey-hey,
look over there, Barnaby.
It's the Christmas Sheep just jumping
their little hooves off. Ho, ho, ho.
Don't get too sleepy now,
Christmas Sheep.
There's still more party
to be had. Ha, ha, ha.
I see daddy in your eyes
It gives me butterflies
I see daddy in your eyes
Each day your smile
is my prize
Daddy in your eyes
It gives me butterflies
I see daddy in your eyes
Each day your smile
Is my prize
When I look into your eyes
Your smile is my sunrise
You're the apple
Of daddy's eye
And I still can't believe it
I hope we are closin' it
I see daddy in your eyes
It gives me butterflies
I see daddy in your eyes
Each day your smile
is my prize
Daddy in your eyes
It gives me butterflies
I see daddy in your eyes
Each day your smile
is my prize
You came into this world
Beautiful and like a pearl
I love you more than
You'll ever know
And I hope that I can be
a parent pro
I see daddy in your eyes
It gives me butterflies
I see daddy in your eyes
Each day your smile
is my prize
Daddy in your eyes
It gives me butterflies
I see daddy in your eyes
Each day your smile
is my prize
Daddy in your eyes
It gives me butterflies
I see daddy in your eyes
Each day your smile
is my prize
Daddy in your eyes,
it gives me butterflies
Your smile is my prize
Daddy in your eyes
Each day
Your smile is my prize
For all the caroling monkeys
in the North Pole,
that's Chubby the Chimp
dancing the Jingle Jungle dance.
I see bananas, he's a superstar.
Ho, ho, ho.
Merry Christmas, Chubby.
Oh, Senor Don Gato was a cat
On a high red roof
Don Gato sat
He was there to read a
letter, meow, meow, meow
Where the reading light was
better, meow, meow, meow
It was a love note
for Don Gato
"I adore you"
wrote the lady cat
Who was fluffy, white
and nice and fat
There was not a sweeter kitty
meow, meow, meow
In the country or the city
meow, meow, meow
And she said
she'd wed Don Gato
Oh, Senor Don Gato
jumped with glee
He fell off the roof
and broke his knee
Broke his ribs and all his
whiskers meow, meow, meow
And his little solar plexus
meow, meow, meow
"Ay caramba!" cried Don Gato
All the doctors
they came on the run
Just to see if something
could be done
And they held a consultation
meow, meow, meow
About how to save their
patient meow, meow, meow
How to save Senor Don Gato
But in spite of everything
they tried
Poor Senor Don Gato
up and died
No, it wasn't very merry
meow, meow, meow
Going to the cemetery
meow, meow, meow
For the ending of Don Gato
As the funeral passed
the market square
Such a smell of fish
was in the air
Though the burial was slated
meow, meow, meow
He became re-animated
meow, meow, meow
He came back to life
Don Gato
That's the story of Don Gato
Hey, look over there.
That's none other than...
Camillia the Crocodile
tiptoeing her tail off.
Sing a song of sixpence
A pocket full of rye
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie
When the pie was opened
The birds began to sing
Wasn't that a tasty dish
to set before the king
The king was
in his counting house
Counting all his money
The queen was in the parlor
Eating bread and honey
The maid was
in the courtyard
Hanging out the clothes
Along came a blackbird
and pecked off her nose
Ah, ah, ah, oh, no
Sing a song of sixpence
A pocket full of rye
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie
When the pie was opened
The birds began to sing
Wasn't that a tasty dish
to set before the king
Barnaby, I think I spot Gary the
Giftbox doing the holiday hula.
He's having a good ol' time.
Say, Barnaby, you know what
I'm in the mood for?
What, Santa?
A grand ol' Christmas story
to get me in the holiday mood.
Me, too. Who will tell us one?
What about our dear pal
Frosty the Donkey,
who lives by the old
Bubbling Mill Creek?
That's a great idea, Santa.
He's the awesomest
storyteller ever.
Ho, ho, ho, let's go.
Hey-hey, Frosty.
How about you tell us one of your
wonderful Christmas stories?
Yeah, that would be great.
By all means, fellas,
I sure do have a story for you.
Here is how it begins.
Piccola lived in Italy,
where the oranges grow, and where all the
year the sun shines warm and bright.
I suppose you think Piccola a very
strange name for a little girl,
but in her country
it was not strange at all,
and her mother thought it the
sweetest name a little girl ever had.
Piccola had no kind father,
no big brother or sister,
and no sweet baby
to play with and love.
She and her mother lived
all alone in an old stone house
that looked on a dark,
narrow street.
They were very poor, and the mother
was away from home almost every day,
washing clothes
and scrubbing floors,
and working hard to earn money
for her little girl and herself.
So you see, Piccola was alone
a great deal of the time.
And if she had not been a very
happy, contented little child,
I hardly know what
she would have done.
She had no playthings except a
heap of stones in the backyard
that she used
for building houses
and a very old, very ragged doll that her
mother had found in the street one day.
But there was a small round hole in the
stone wall at the back of her yard,
and her greatest pleasure was to look
through that into her neighbor's garden.
When she stood on a stone, and
put her eyes close to the hole,
she could see the green grass
in the garden,
and smell the sweet flowers,
and even hear the water
splashing into the fountain.
She had never seen
anyone walking in the garden,
for it belonged
to an old gentleman
who did not care
about grass and flowers.
One day in the autumn her mother told her
that the old gentleman had gone away,
and had rented his house to a
family of little American children,
who had come with their sick mother
to spend the winter in Italy.
After this, Piccola
was never lonely,
for all day long the children ran and
played and danced and sang in the garden.
It was several weeks
before they saw her at all,
and I am not sure they ever
would have done so,
but one day their kitten
ran away,
and in chasing her
they came close to the wall
and saw Piccola's black eyes looking
through the hole in the stones.
They were a little
frightened at first,
they did not speak to her,
but the next day
she was there again,
and Rose, the oldest girl,
went up to the wall
and talked to her
a little while.
When the children found that she had no
one to play with and was very lonely,
they talked to her every day, and
often brought her fruits and candies,
and passed them through
the hole in the wall.
One day they even
pushed the kitten through.
But the hole was hardly
large enough for her,
and she mewed and scratched
and was very much frightened.
After that the little boy
said he would ask his father
if the hole might not
be made larger,
and then Piccola could
come in and play with them.
The father had found out that
Piccola's mother was a good woman,
and that the little girl herself
was sweet and kind,
so that he was very glad to have
some of the stones broken away
and an opening made
for Piccola to come in.
How excited she was,
and how glad the children were
when she first stepped
into the garden.
She wore her best dress, a long,
bright-colored woolen skirt and a white waist.
Round her neck was
a string of beads,
and on her feet were
little wooden shoes.
It would seem very strange to us,
would it not, to wear wooden shoes,
but Piccola and her mother
had never worn anything else,
and never had
any money to buy socks.
Piccola almost always
ran about barefooted,
like the kittens and the
chickens and the little ducks.
What a good time
they had that day,
and how glad
Piccola's mother was
that her little girl could have such
a pleasant, safe place to play in
while she was away at work.
By and by December came, and the little
Americans began to talk about Christmas.
One day, when Piccola's
curly head and bright eyes
came peeping through
the hole in the wall,
they ran to her
and helped her in,
and as they did so,
they all asked her at once
what she thought she would have
for a Christmas present.
"A Christmas present,"
said Piccola.
"Why, what is that?"
The children looked
surprised at this,
and Rose said, rather gravely, "Dear
Piccola, don't you know what Christmas is?"
Oh, yes, Piccola knew it was the happy
day when the baby Christ was born,
and she had been to church on that
day and heard the beautiful singing,
and had seen the picture
of the Babe lying in the manger,
with cattle and sheep
sleeping round about.
Oh, yes, she knew
all that very well,
but what was
a Christmas present?
Then the children began to laugh
and to answer her all together.
There was such
a clatter of tongues
that she could hear only a few
of the words now and then,
such as "chimney,"
"Santa Claus,"
"stockings," "reindeer,"
"Christmas Eve,"
"candies and toys."
Piccola put her hands
over her ears and said,
"Oh, I can't understand
one word. You tell me, Rose."
Then Rose told her
all about jolly St. Claus,
with his red cheeks
and white beard and fur coat,
and about his reindeer
and sleigh full of toys.
"Every Christmas Eve,"
said Rose,
"he comes down the chimney, and fills
the stockings of all the good children,
"so, Piccola, you hang up
your stocking,
and who knows what a beautiful Christmas
present you will find when morning comes."
Of course Piccola thought
this was a delightful plan,
and was very pleased
to hear about it.
Then all the children told her of every
Christmas Eve they could remember,
and of the presents
they had had,
so that she went home thinking
of nothing but dolls and hoops
and balls and ribbons and
marbles and wagons and kites.
She told her mother
about Santa Claus,
and her mother seemed to think
that perhaps he did not know
there was any little girl
in that house,
and very likely
he would not come at all.
But Piccola felt very sure
Santa Claus would remember her,
for her little friends had promised to send
a letter up the chimney to remind him.
Christmas Eve came at last.
Piccola's mother hurried home
from her work.
They had their little supper of soup
and bread, and soon it was bedtime,
time to get ready
for Santa Claus.
But, oh! Piccola remembered that for the
first time that the children had told her
she must hang up her stocking, and she
hadn't any, and neither had her mother.
How sad, how sad it was.
Now Santa Claus would come,
and perhaps be angry
because he couldn't find
anyplace to put the present.
The poor little girl
stood by the fireplace,
and the big tears began
to run down her cheeks.
Just then her mother called to her,
"Hurry, Piccola, come to bed."
What should she do? But she stopped
crying, and tried to think,
and in a moment she
remembered her wooden shoes,
and ran off to get one of them.
She put it close to the chimney,
and said to herself,
"Surely Santa Claus will know
what it's there for.
"He will know I haven't
any stockings,
so I gave him the shoe instead."
Then she went off
happily to her bed,
and was asleep almost as soon as she had
nestled close to her mother's side.
The sun had only just begun to shine
next morning when Piccola woke.
With one jump she was out on the floor
and running toward the chimney.
The wooden shoe was lying
where she had left it,
but you could never,
never guess what was in it.
Piccola had not meant
to wake her mother,
but this surprise was more than any
little girl could bear and yet be quiet,
so she danced to the bed with the shoe in her
hand, calling, "Mother, Mother! Look, look!
See the present
Santa Claus brought me!"
Her mother raised her head
and looked into the shoe.
"Why, Piccola," she said, "a little
chimney swallow nestled in your shoe?
What a good Santa Claus
to bring you a bird!"
"Good Santa Claus, dear Santa
Claus!" cried Piccola.
And she kissed her mother and kissed
the bird and kissed the shoe,
and even threw kisses up
the chimney, she was so happy.
When the birdling was
taken out of the shoe,
they found that he did not try to
fly, only to hop about the room.
And as they looked closer, they could see
that one of his wings was hurt a little.
But the mother bound it up carefully,
so that it did not seem to pain him,
and he was so gentle that he took
a drink of water from a cup,
and even ate crumbs and seeds
out of Piccola's hands.
She was a proud little girl when
she took her Christmas present
to show the children
in the garden.
They had had a great many gifts, dolls that
could say "mama," bright picture books,
trains of cars, toy pianos,
but not one of their playthings was
alive, like Piccola's birdling.
They were as pleased as she,
and Rose hunted about the house
until she found
a large wicker cage
that belonged to a blackbird
she once had.
She gave the cage to Piccola,
and the swallow seemed to make
himself quite at home in it at once,
and sat on the perch winking his
bright eyes at the children.
Rose had saved a bag
of candies for Piccola.
And then she went home at last,
with the cage and her dear
swallow safely inside it.
I'm sure there was not a happier little
girl in the whole country of Italy.
Ho, ho, ho.
That was a great story, Frosty.
Yeah, a lovely story.
See you next time, Frosty. Have
a Merry Christmas. Ho, ho, ho.
Hey, look over there.
Willy's having an icy ball.
Merry Christmas, Willy,
and a Happy New Year.
Hey, look over there.
Gary the Frog is kicking up those
long legs at a holiday jig.
Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas,
Gary, and a Happy New Year.
Barnaby, do my squinty eyes
betray me
or is that a whole troupe
of dancing gingerbread men?
It's the Ginger Snapper group.
They are the best gingerbread
dancing fellas in the whole world.
Let's check them out.
You betcha.
They're enormous fun.
Merry Christmas,
Ginger Snappers, ho,
and a Happy New Year to you.
Ho, ho, ho.
What do I see yonder
in the snowy woods?
That's Theodore the Teddy Bear.
He's having a holiday blast.
Look at him go.
Merry Christmas, Theodore, and
a Happy New Year. Ho, ho, ho.
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the whole wide world
in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got my brothers and
my sisters in His hands
He's got my brothers and
my sisters in His hands
He's got my brothers and
my sisters in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the sun and
the moon in His hands
He's got the sun and
the moon in His hands
He's got the sun and
the moon in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the wind and
the rain in His hands
He's got the wind and
the rain in His hands
He's got the wind and
the rain in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the rivers and
the oceans in His hands
He's got the rivers and
the oceans in His hands
He's got
the rivers and the oceans
In His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the whole wide world
in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got
the whole world in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got
the whole world in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
Say, Barnaby,
all this partying just makes
me wanna let my beard down
and kick up a dance-storm
with these snow boots.
What are you waiting for, Santa,
this is after all your holiday.
You should be partying
with the best.
North Pole, here I come. Ho ho.
I'll show you what Christmas
dancing is all about. Let's go.
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.
This has been the best Christmas ever.
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.
A bash to remember.
Merry Christmas, ho, ho.
And a Happy New Year.
Ho, ho, ho.
Ho, ho, ho.
Merry Christmas, Barnaby.
Ho, ho, ho. I hope you're having
a blast this Christmas Eve.
This new souped-up sleigh
is sure a lot of fun.
Yeah, Santa, this was the most fun
I've ever had on all Christmases ever.
A day to remember.
Say, Santa, are we done
with delivering all the presents
to all the good children
of the world?
All done, and in record time.
Where are we off to now, Santa?
I hope there's more fun
to be had.
He, he, he. Ho, ho, ho.
You got that right, Barnaby.
There's a ton more fun
to be had.
The day's not over yet.
We're heading back home to celebrate this
Christmas with all our dear friends.
Are you saying
we're gonna have a party, Santa?
That would be so awesome.
He, he. Ho, ho.
It's gonna be
an amazing Christmas bash.
There's gonna be storytellers and
dancing and music and sing-alongs.
Ho, ho, ho.
That sounds like
a total fun time, Santa.
A great time indeed.
Well, what are we waiting for?
Off to the festivities we go.
Ho, ho, ho.
Ho, we made it. Ho, ho.
And the party is in full swing.
Swinging and ringing.
Hey, look over there.
It's my best pal,
Jimmy the Gingerbread Man.
Oh, he's having
a time of his life,
dancin' away.
Merry Christmas, Jimmy,
and a Happy New Year.
Whoa. I never knew
Jimmy was such a great dancer.
Well, check it out, Barnaby.
That's our pal, Alfie the Elf,
dancing the Merry Macarena.
Dancing and ringing
the New Year away.
Merry Christmas, Alfie,
and a Happy New Year.
Well, what do you know, it's the
coolest dancer in the North Pole.
Hey, it's Nutty the Nutcracker.
He's nuts and nuttier,
but what a dancer.
Merry Christmas, Nutty,
and a Happy New Year to ya.
Hey, look over yonder.
It's Slinky the baby Squirrel
dancin' up
a squirrel of a storm.
Ho, ho, ho.
Merry Christmas, Slinky.
Aww, cute Slinky.
Hey, Barnaby, what do you say,
we go and listen
to an amazing Christmas story?
Who'll tell us one?
I have an idea.
Let's go see Horace the Horse.
He's a great storyteller,
and he'll tell us
a marvelous Christmas story.
Let's go.
Hey, Horace, we're here to listen
to a great Christmas story.
Yeah, we hear
you're an amazing storyteller.
Will you tell us one?
My pleasure, Santa and Barnaby.
I have a great story.
Here is how it goes.
Two little children were sitting by
the fire on one cold winter's night.
All at once they heard
a timid knock at the door.
And one ran to open it.
There, outside in
the cold and the darkness,
stood a child with no shoes
upon his feet
and clad in thin,
ragged garments.
He was shivering with cold,
and he asked to come in
and warm himself.
"Yes, come,"
cried both the children.
"You shall have our place
by the fire. Come in."
They drew the little stranger
to their warm seat
and shared their supper with
him, and gave him their bed,
while they slept
on a hard bench.
In the night they were awakened
by strains of sweet music
and, looking out,
they saw a band of children
in shining garments
approaching the house.
They were playing
on golden harps,
and the air was full of melody.
Suddenly the Stranger Child
stood before them,
no longer cold and ragged,
but clad in silvery light.
His soft voice said,
"I was cold, and you took Me in.
"I was hungry, and you fed Me.
"I was tired,
and you gave Me your bed.
"I am the Christ Child,
wandering through the world
"to bring peace and happiness
to all good children.
As you have given to Me, so may this
tree every year give rich fruit to you."
So saying, He broke a branch from the
fir tree that grew near the door,
and He planted it
into the ground and disappeared.
But the branch grew
into a great tree,
and every year it bore wonderful
golden fruit for the kind children.
Thank you for
that amazing story, Horace.
Have a wonderful Christmas.
Ho, ho, ho.
See you next time, Horace.
Goodbye.
Ho, ho, ho. Look over there.
It's Benny the Beaver,
having the time of his life,
kickin' up those webbed feet.
Ho, ho, ho.
Merry Christmas, Benny.
Ho, ho, ho.
I was just sittin' up,
a-havin' my tea
Havin' my tea, havin' my tea
I saw a beautiful face
was lookin' up at me
Up at me, up at me
Oh, she had a cute smile
so I asked her name
Asked her name,
asked her name
Oh, we got to talkin'
said she felt the same
She feel the same,
she feel the same
Oh, every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Armadillo rinkety tang
But now she's focused on
is what she wants to be
Oh, what she wants to be
It's what she wants to be
She's cooking us a chicken
With a jug of tea
A jug of tea
- Oh, oh
- A jug of tea
I'm thankful for the day
she moved outta my door
I'm thankful for the day
she moved outta my door
Oh, I never thought I'd fall
for the girl next door
And I never thought I'd fall
For the girl next door
Oh, every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Oh, every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Armadillo rinkety tang
Armadillo rinkety tang
I was just sittin' up
a-havin' my tea
Havin' my tea, havin' my tea
I saw a beautiful face
was lookin' up at me
Up at me, up at me
Oh, she had a cute smile
so I asked her name
Asked her name,
asked her name
Oh, we got to talkin'
said she felt the same
She feel the same,
she feel the same
Oh, every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Armadillo rinkety tang
But now she's focused on
What she wants to be
Oh, what she wants to be
It's what she wants to be
She's cooking us a chicken
with a jug of tea
A jug of tea
- Oh, oh
- A jug of tea
I'm thankful for the day
she moved outta my door
I'm thankful for the day
she moved outta my door
Oh, I never thought I'd fall
for the girl next door
And I never thought I'd fall
for the girl next door
Oh, every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Oh, every time I see her
Imma do my thing
Armadillo rinkety tang
Armadillo rinkety tang
Wasn't Benny the Beaver
a great dancer?
I told you he was.
Total party animal.
If you pardon my pun, Santa.
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!
All right, let's go.
I hear the party is heatin' up
with the beehive.
Bzzz. I hear the buzzing.
Have a good time.
Who could it be
but Betty the Bee?
Ho, she's dancin' the day away.
Ho, ho, ho.
Merry Christmas, Betty.
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Buzz to the left
And buzz to the right
Do the hive dance
and have a buzz time
Look, over there, Barnaby.
Who goes yonder?
That's Danny Duck,
havin' a time.
Look at those duck legs go.
Ho, ho, ho.
Merry Christmas, Danny.
I think I know
where the most incredible dancer
of all time is performing today.
Rudolph the Rabbit is stomping those
big ol' bunny feet to a groovy tune.
Ho, ho, ho.
Merry Christmas, Rudolph.
Say, Barnaby, I'm in the mood
for a good Christmas story.
Oh, yeah, me, too.
Who will tell us
a great story, Santa?
I know just the ruminant who can
tell the most amazing stories.
Who would that be?
Let's go see
Silky the Christmas Cow.
Silky the Christmas Cow?
I love her. She's the best
storyteller in the world.
Ho, ho, ho. Indeed.
Ho, ho, ho.
Hey there, Silky.
Santa, do I have
a story for you.
Glad to hear that, Silky.
What story will it be?
What about one of my favorites?
It's called the "Three Kings"
and it goes like this...
Three kings came riding
from far away.
Melchior and Gaspar
and Balthazar.
Three Wise Men
out of the East were they,
and they traveled by night
and they slept by day,
for their guide was a beautiful,
wonderful star.
The star was so beautiful,
large, and clear,
that all the other stars of the sky
became a white mist in the atmosphere,
and by this they knew
that the coming was near
of the Prince foretold
in the prophecy.
Three caskets they bore
on their saddle-bows,
three caskets of gold
with golden keys,
their robes were of
crimson silk,
with rows of bells
and pomegranates and furbelows,
their turbans like
blossoming almond trees.
And so the Three Kings
rode into the West,
through the dusk of night,
over hill and dell,
and sometimes they nodded
with beard on breast
and sometimes talked,
as they paused to rest,
with the people they met
at some wayside well.
"Of the child that is born,"
said Balthazar,
"Good people, I pray you,
tell us the news,
"for we in the East have seen his star, and
have ridden fast, and have ridden far,
"to find and worship
the King of the Jews."
And the people answered,
"You ask in vain,
we know of no king
but Herod the Great."
They thought the Wise Men
were men insane,
as they spurred their horses
across the plain,
like riders in haste
who cannot wait.
And when they came to Jerusalem, Herod
the Great, who had heard this thing
sent for the Wise Men
and questioned them,
and said,
"Go down unto Bethlehem,
and bring me tidings
of this new king."
So they rode away,
and the star stood still,
the only one
in the gray of morn,
yet, it stopped, it stood still
of its own free will,
right over Bethlehem on the hill, the
city of David, where Christ was born.
And the Three Kings rode through
the gate and the guard,
through the silent street, till
their horses turned and neighed
as they entered
the great inn-yard,
but the windows were closed
and the doors were barred,
and only a light
in the stable burned.
And cradled there
in the scented hay,
in the air made sweet
by the breath of kine,
the little child
in the manger lay,
the child, that would be king one day
of a kingdom not human but divine.
His mother Mary of Nazareth sat
watching beside his place of rest,
watching the even flow
of his breath,
for the joy of life
and the terror of death
were mingled together
in her breast.
They laid their offerings
at his feet,
the gold was their tribute
to a King,
the frankincense,
with its odor sweet,
was for the Priest,
the Paraclete,
the myrrh
for the body's burying.
And the mother wondered
and bowed her head,
and sat as still
as a statue of stone,
her heart was troubled
yet comforted,
remembering what the Angel had said of
an endless reign and of David's throne.
Then the Kings rode out
of the city gate,
with a clatter of hoofs
in proud array,
but they went not back
to Herod the Great,
for they knew his malice
and feared his hate,
and returned to their homes
by another way.
Thank you, Silky. That was a great
Christmas story, if I've ever heard one.
It was indeed.
Ho, ho, ho. Off we go.
Hey, it's Parrot Pete.
He knows the way
to More-To-Be-Had.
Let's follow him. Fly high, fly
low, Parrot Pete, we're right with you.
Hey-hey,
look over there, Barnaby.
It's the Christmas Sheep just jumping
their little hooves off. Ho, ho, ho.
Don't get too sleepy now,
Christmas Sheep.
There's still more party
to be had. Ha, ha, ha.
I see daddy in your eyes
It gives me butterflies
I see daddy in your eyes
Each day your smile
is my prize
Daddy in your eyes
It gives me butterflies
I see daddy in your eyes
Each day your smile
Is my prize
When I look into your eyes
Your smile is my sunrise
You're the apple
Of daddy's eye
And I still can't believe it
I hope we are closin' it
I see daddy in your eyes
It gives me butterflies
I see daddy in your eyes
Each day your smile
is my prize
Daddy in your eyes
It gives me butterflies
I see daddy in your eyes
Each day your smile
is my prize
You came into this world
Beautiful and like a pearl
I love you more than
You'll ever know
And I hope that I can be
a parent pro
I see daddy in your eyes
It gives me butterflies
I see daddy in your eyes
Each day your smile
is my prize
Daddy in your eyes
It gives me butterflies
I see daddy in your eyes
Each day your smile
is my prize
Daddy in your eyes
It gives me butterflies
I see daddy in your eyes
Each day your smile
is my prize
Daddy in your eyes,
it gives me butterflies
Your smile is my prize
Daddy in your eyes
Each day
Your smile is my prize
For all the caroling monkeys
in the North Pole,
that's Chubby the Chimp
dancing the Jingle Jungle dance.
I see bananas, he's a superstar.
Ho, ho, ho.
Merry Christmas, Chubby.
Oh, Senor Don Gato was a cat
On a high red roof
Don Gato sat
He was there to read a
letter, meow, meow, meow
Where the reading light was
better, meow, meow, meow
It was a love note
for Don Gato
"I adore you"
wrote the lady cat
Who was fluffy, white
and nice and fat
There was not a sweeter kitty
meow, meow, meow
In the country or the city
meow, meow, meow
And she said
she'd wed Don Gato
Oh, Senor Don Gato
jumped with glee
He fell off the roof
and broke his knee
Broke his ribs and all his
whiskers meow, meow, meow
And his little solar plexus
meow, meow, meow
"Ay caramba!" cried Don Gato
All the doctors
they came on the run
Just to see if something
could be done
And they held a consultation
meow, meow, meow
About how to save their
patient meow, meow, meow
How to save Senor Don Gato
But in spite of everything
they tried
Poor Senor Don Gato
up and died
No, it wasn't very merry
meow, meow, meow
Going to the cemetery
meow, meow, meow
For the ending of Don Gato
As the funeral passed
the market square
Such a smell of fish
was in the air
Though the burial was slated
meow, meow, meow
He became re-animated
meow, meow, meow
He came back to life
Don Gato
That's the story of Don Gato
Hey, look over there.
That's none other than...
Camillia the Crocodile
tiptoeing her tail off.
Sing a song of sixpence
A pocket full of rye
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie
When the pie was opened
The birds began to sing
Wasn't that a tasty dish
to set before the king
The king was
in his counting house
Counting all his money
The queen was in the parlor
Eating bread and honey
The maid was
in the courtyard
Hanging out the clothes
Along came a blackbird
and pecked off her nose
Ah, ah, ah, oh, no
Sing a song of sixpence
A pocket full of rye
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie
When the pie was opened
The birds began to sing
Wasn't that a tasty dish
to set before the king
Barnaby, I think I spot Gary the
Giftbox doing the holiday hula.
He's having a good ol' time.
Say, Barnaby, you know what
I'm in the mood for?
What, Santa?
A grand ol' Christmas story
to get me in the holiday mood.
Me, too. Who will tell us one?
What about our dear pal
Frosty the Donkey,
who lives by the old
Bubbling Mill Creek?
That's a great idea, Santa.
He's the awesomest
storyteller ever.
Ho, ho, ho, let's go.
Hey-hey, Frosty.
How about you tell us one of your
wonderful Christmas stories?
Yeah, that would be great.
By all means, fellas,
I sure do have a story for you.
Here is how it begins.
Piccola lived in Italy,
where the oranges grow, and where all the
year the sun shines warm and bright.
I suppose you think Piccola a very
strange name for a little girl,
but in her country
it was not strange at all,
and her mother thought it the
sweetest name a little girl ever had.
Piccola had no kind father,
no big brother or sister,
and no sweet baby
to play with and love.
She and her mother lived
all alone in an old stone house
that looked on a dark,
narrow street.
They were very poor, and the mother
was away from home almost every day,
washing clothes
and scrubbing floors,
and working hard to earn money
for her little girl and herself.
So you see, Piccola was alone
a great deal of the time.
And if she had not been a very
happy, contented little child,
I hardly know what
she would have done.
She had no playthings except a
heap of stones in the backyard
that she used
for building houses
and a very old, very ragged doll that her
mother had found in the street one day.
But there was a small round hole in the
stone wall at the back of her yard,
and her greatest pleasure was to look
through that into her neighbor's garden.
When she stood on a stone, and
put her eyes close to the hole,
she could see the green grass
in the garden,
and smell the sweet flowers,
and even hear the water
splashing into the fountain.
She had never seen
anyone walking in the garden,
for it belonged
to an old gentleman
who did not care
about grass and flowers.
One day in the autumn her mother told her
that the old gentleman had gone away,
and had rented his house to a
family of little American children,
who had come with their sick mother
to spend the winter in Italy.
After this, Piccola
was never lonely,
for all day long the children ran and
played and danced and sang in the garden.
It was several weeks
before they saw her at all,
and I am not sure they ever
would have done so,
but one day their kitten
ran away,
and in chasing her
they came close to the wall
and saw Piccola's black eyes looking
through the hole in the stones.
They were a little
frightened at first,
they did not speak to her,
but the next day
she was there again,
and Rose, the oldest girl,
went up to the wall
and talked to her
a little while.
When the children found that she had no
one to play with and was very lonely,
they talked to her every day, and
often brought her fruits and candies,
and passed them through
the hole in the wall.
One day they even
pushed the kitten through.
But the hole was hardly
large enough for her,
and she mewed and scratched
and was very much frightened.
After that the little boy
said he would ask his father
if the hole might not
be made larger,
and then Piccola could
come in and play with them.
The father had found out that
Piccola's mother was a good woman,
and that the little girl herself
was sweet and kind,
so that he was very glad to have
some of the stones broken away
and an opening made
for Piccola to come in.
How excited she was,
and how glad the children were
when she first stepped
into the garden.
She wore her best dress, a long,
bright-colored woolen skirt and a white waist.
Round her neck was
a string of beads,
and on her feet were
little wooden shoes.
It would seem very strange to us,
would it not, to wear wooden shoes,
but Piccola and her mother
had never worn anything else,
and never had
any money to buy socks.
Piccola almost always
ran about barefooted,
like the kittens and the
chickens and the little ducks.
What a good time
they had that day,
and how glad
Piccola's mother was
that her little girl could have such
a pleasant, safe place to play in
while she was away at work.
By and by December came, and the little
Americans began to talk about Christmas.
One day, when Piccola's
curly head and bright eyes
came peeping through
the hole in the wall,
they ran to her
and helped her in,
and as they did so,
they all asked her at once
what she thought she would have
for a Christmas present.
"A Christmas present,"
said Piccola.
"Why, what is that?"
The children looked
surprised at this,
and Rose said, rather gravely, "Dear
Piccola, don't you know what Christmas is?"
Oh, yes, Piccola knew it was the happy
day when the baby Christ was born,
and she had been to church on that
day and heard the beautiful singing,
and had seen the picture
of the Babe lying in the manger,
with cattle and sheep
sleeping round about.
Oh, yes, she knew
all that very well,
but what was
a Christmas present?
Then the children began to laugh
and to answer her all together.
There was such
a clatter of tongues
that she could hear only a few
of the words now and then,
such as "chimney,"
"Santa Claus,"
"stockings," "reindeer,"
"Christmas Eve,"
"candies and toys."
Piccola put her hands
over her ears and said,
"Oh, I can't understand
one word. You tell me, Rose."
Then Rose told her
all about jolly St. Claus,
with his red cheeks
and white beard and fur coat,
and about his reindeer
and sleigh full of toys.
"Every Christmas Eve,"
said Rose,
"he comes down the chimney, and fills
the stockings of all the good children,
"so, Piccola, you hang up
your stocking,
and who knows what a beautiful Christmas
present you will find when morning comes."
Of course Piccola thought
this was a delightful plan,
and was very pleased
to hear about it.
Then all the children told her of every
Christmas Eve they could remember,
and of the presents
they had had,
so that she went home thinking
of nothing but dolls and hoops
and balls and ribbons and
marbles and wagons and kites.
She told her mother
about Santa Claus,
and her mother seemed to think
that perhaps he did not know
there was any little girl
in that house,
and very likely
he would not come at all.
But Piccola felt very sure
Santa Claus would remember her,
for her little friends had promised to send
a letter up the chimney to remind him.
Christmas Eve came at last.
Piccola's mother hurried home
from her work.
They had their little supper of soup
and bread, and soon it was bedtime,
time to get ready
for Santa Claus.
But, oh! Piccola remembered that for the
first time that the children had told her
she must hang up her stocking, and she
hadn't any, and neither had her mother.
How sad, how sad it was.
Now Santa Claus would come,
and perhaps be angry
because he couldn't find
anyplace to put the present.
The poor little girl
stood by the fireplace,
and the big tears began
to run down her cheeks.
Just then her mother called to her,
"Hurry, Piccola, come to bed."
What should she do? But she stopped
crying, and tried to think,
and in a moment she
remembered her wooden shoes,
and ran off to get one of them.
She put it close to the chimney,
and said to herself,
"Surely Santa Claus will know
what it's there for.
"He will know I haven't
any stockings,
so I gave him the shoe instead."
Then she went off
happily to her bed,
and was asleep almost as soon as she had
nestled close to her mother's side.
The sun had only just begun to shine
next morning when Piccola woke.
With one jump she was out on the floor
and running toward the chimney.
The wooden shoe was lying
where she had left it,
but you could never,
never guess what was in it.
Piccola had not meant
to wake her mother,
but this surprise was more than any
little girl could bear and yet be quiet,
so she danced to the bed with the shoe in her
hand, calling, "Mother, Mother! Look, look!
See the present
Santa Claus brought me!"
Her mother raised her head
and looked into the shoe.
"Why, Piccola," she said, "a little
chimney swallow nestled in your shoe?
What a good Santa Claus
to bring you a bird!"
"Good Santa Claus, dear Santa
Claus!" cried Piccola.
And she kissed her mother and kissed
the bird and kissed the shoe,
and even threw kisses up
the chimney, she was so happy.
When the birdling was
taken out of the shoe,
they found that he did not try to
fly, only to hop about the room.
And as they looked closer, they could see
that one of his wings was hurt a little.
But the mother bound it up carefully,
so that it did not seem to pain him,
and he was so gentle that he took
a drink of water from a cup,
and even ate crumbs and seeds
out of Piccola's hands.
She was a proud little girl when
she took her Christmas present
to show the children
in the garden.
They had had a great many gifts, dolls that
could say "mama," bright picture books,
trains of cars, toy pianos,
but not one of their playthings was
alive, like Piccola's birdling.
They were as pleased as she,
and Rose hunted about the house
until she found
a large wicker cage
that belonged to a blackbird
she once had.
She gave the cage to Piccola,
and the swallow seemed to make
himself quite at home in it at once,
and sat on the perch winking his
bright eyes at the children.
Rose had saved a bag
of candies for Piccola.
And then she went home at last,
with the cage and her dear
swallow safely inside it.
I'm sure there was not a happier little
girl in the whole country of Italy.
Ho, ho, ho.
That was a great story, Frosty.
Yeah, a lovely story.
See you next time, Frosty. Have
a Merry Christmas. Ho, ho, ho.
Hey, look over there.
Willy's having an icy ball.
Merry Christmas, Willy,
and a Happy New Year.
Hey, look over there.
Gary the Frog is kicking up those
long legs at a holiday jig.
Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas,
Gary, and a Happy New Year.
Barnaby, do my squinty eyes
betray me
or is that a whole troupe
of dancing gingerbread men?
It's the Ginger Snapper group.
They are the best gingerbread
dancing fellas in the whole world.
Let's check them out.
You betcha.
They're enormous fun.
Merry Christmas,
Ginger Snappers, ho,
and a Happy New Year to you.
Ho, ho, ho.
What do I see yonder
in the snowy woods?
That's Theodore the Teddy Bear.
He's having a holiday blast.
Look at him go.
Merry Christmas, Theodore, and
a Happy New Year. Ho, ho, ho.
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the whole wide world
in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got my brothers and
my sisters in His hands
He's got my brothers and
my sisters in His hands
He's got my brothers and
my sisters in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the sun and
the moon in His hands
He's got the sun and
the moon in His hands
He's got the sun and
the moon in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the wind and
the rain in His hands
He's got the wind and
the rain in His hands
He's got the wind and
the rain in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the rivers and
the oceans in His hands
He's got the rivers and
the oceans in His hands
He's got
the rivers and the oceans
In His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the whole wide world
in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got
the whole world in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
He's got
the whole world in His hands
He's got the whole world
in His hands
Say, Barnaby,
all this partying just makes
me wanna let my beard down
and kick up a dance-storm
with these snow boots.
What are you waiting for, Santa,
this is after all your holiday.
You should be partying
with the best.
North Pole, here I come. Ho ho.
I'll show you what Christmas
dancing is all about. Let's go.
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.
This has been the best Christmas ever.
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.
A bash to remember.
Merry Christmas, ho, ho.
And a Happy New Year.
Ho, ho, ho.