serenade.
The magic of moonlight melodies,
with the lovely Phyllis
as goddess of the moon.
Nursery rhymes.
The lady who taught you
your first fairy tale,
Mother Goose!
She's big, isn't she?
A barbershop ballad.
A bouquet of American beauties,
with the lovely Holly
as the centre rosebud
singing Only a Rose.
Gee, you have a funny mouth.
- Let me hold him.
- Go away.
Look it. Isn't it pretty?
They've been around
again asking questions.
I'm so worried for you.
Oh, now don't worry. They'll
never find me behind this nose.
Be very careful, dear.
Now how about a nice smile
that I can remember till next year?
God be with you, my boy.
It's all right, Mother.
Only a rose
Here we go!
Only a smile to keep in memory
Until we meet another day
Only a rose to whisper
Blushing as roses do
I'll bring along a smile
or a song for anyone
Only a rose for you
A Stephen Foster album.
A South American album!
Exotic firebirds from
the forests of the Amazon,
a blaze of breathtaking beauty.
A very special surprise
for children of all ages,
our guest star for tonight,
Hopalong Cassidy!
That's him! Sure, it's Hoppy!
A Christmas album.
Jingle bells, jingle
bells Jingle all the way
Oh, what fun it is to ride
in a one-horse open sleigh
Your hair is too red,
your legs are too thin,
you have lips like a cat.
You're no good. You give
me too much trouble.
Flattery rolls right off me.
But you make a fire here.
Well, simmer down, General,
before you melt your medals.
What could be more fitting
for the Christmas album
than Adeste Fideles?
The performance ends,
but the drama never stops.
In the grey, drizzly morning,
the first section of the circus
train pulls into the railroad yard,
long before the city is awake.
But the animals are awake and
looking for their breakfast.
Then comes the unloading.
Two hundred tons of living power.
Sixty carloads of equipment.
Wheels rolling, gears grinding.
A circus is gigantic power
and unceasing movement.
It is a restless giant,
unlimbering its muscles
after the long night ride
before moving in to capture a new city.
Up from the railroad yards
with their faithful escort
of early-rising young fans
who've been waiting since daybreak
to follow these living tanks
as they lumber and sway
to the circus grounds,
where the stakes are being driven
that will anchor the big top
against the beating of
its constant adversaries,
wind and rain.
An army is at work, an army
the audience never sees.
An army that must be moved from
city to city, fed and housed,
a thousand strong, hardworking men,
moving like a finely-geared
machine, with one purpose,
to roll the show.
The all-important baling
ring clangs into place.
Bales of fireproof canvas,
58,000 pounds of it,
are hauled out, unwrapped, rolled out,
stretched, laid on the ground,
where it lies like the skin
of a mighty dismembered giant,
waiting for some magician
to bring it together and give it life,
waiting until, one by one,
the giants ribs rise into place
and are firmly fastened in the earth.
Boys line up for the punt games,
a chance for a free ticket.
The disciplined army never loses
a moment nor wastes a motion.
The boss canvas man makes fast
the canvas to the baling ring.
The lives of all depend on it.
Each of the hundreds of roustabouts
has his place and his job,
a responsible job, for one
mistake, one bit of carelessness,
could cost a life.
The giants skin is stretched out
until it lies smooth and moulded,
like the bowl of a great coliseum.
But eyes watching for trouble
have noticed a little
tear that must be patched
before the searching fingers of the wind
can rip it into a disaster,
before the giant can
stand up and stretch
over his feast of colour and laughter.
Now the giant comes to life.
Slowly, the tons and
tons of his canvas body
rise and swell into the air.
He starts growing to
his full, majestic height
as he catches his first deep breath.
The