A Christmas Carol

Merry Christmas to you.
Bob, a merry Christmas to you.
This is my fiancée, Bess.
This is Mr. Cratchit, and his son Tim.

How do you do?
Now, Tim, no secrets.
What were you saying?

I said, sir...
- I said she's very pretty.
- Tim!

- Thank you kindly, Tim.
- Don't you agree with him, Bob?

- Yes, sir. She is very pretty.
- Father!

Thank you kindly, Mr. Cratchit.
- Good morning.
- Goodbye.

- Merry Christmas.
- Merry Christmas.

Come on, darling. Let's have a slide.
But, Fred, you can't.
Can't I?
You should have seen me yesterday.

But in front of the church? It isn't right.
But, darling, it looks perfect.
It is perfect.
- It's as slippery as a codfish's tummy.
- No, Fred, no!

But, darling, just one slide. Only one.
- Yeah.
- Well, all right.

Boys! Sliding in front of the church?
Now run away home.
And a merry Christmas to you all.

- Run home.
- See?

But, darling, he has no soul.
He's simply acting like a grownup.
I still say he has no soul.
He just doesn't appreciate the qualities
of a good slide.

Come on.
One, two, three.
- Giddyap.
- Merry Christmas, Tom.

And a merry Christmas to you, Bob.
- And to you, too, Tiny Tim.
- Thank you. Merry Christmas, sir.