Original subtitles

NARRATOR: If you were asked to choose the most fabulous character

in English literature, who would it be?

Robin Hood?

King Arthur?

Becky Sharp? Sherlock Holmes?

Oliver Twist, perhaps?

Any one of them would be an excellent choice.

Still, for the most fabulous character of all, I would nominate a toad.

J. Thaddeus Toad. Esquire. Have you never met him?

You'll find his story in this delightful book, The Wind In The Willows.

Toad, you might say, was the one disturbing element.

Incurable adventurer. Mad, reckless, tried everything.

Positive mania for fads, and he never counted the cost.

Had a host of fair-weather friends, of course,

but there were only three who had his best interests at heart.

One was a badger.

MacBadger.

Then there was a water rat. Bit stuffy, perhaps, but really a fine fellow.

And a mole. Gentle creature, kind and sympathetic.

They all made their homes in a quaint little community along the riverbank.

Now, on that particular day, Mole was in a hurry because...

(CHIMING)

Oh, yes, because he was late for tea. A regrettable habit.

Rat had more or less learned to put up with it.

As usual, "Sorry, Rat," says Mole. "Quite all right," says Rat.

"Two lumps?" "If you please," says Mole.

Just as they were getting comfortably settled...

(KNOCKING)

- Special delivery, Mr. Rat. - Thank you, postman.

How's everything on the river today, sir?

Dashed quiet, as usual. Thank you.

Mole. Listen to this.

(RAT READING)

Rat was certain Toad was making trouble again.

The answer to that lay just around the bend at Toad Hall,

the ancestral home of J. Thaddeus himself.

This impressive structure, by the way, was by all odds

the finest home on the river.

The animals were tremendously proud of it.

They felt it gave the whole community an air of respectability.

To lose Toad Hall was, of course, unthinkable.

Yet it was no secret that Toad's costly follies

had brought him to the brink of bankruptcy.

As a last resort, MacBadger volunteered

to take over and put Toad's house in order.

(GROANING)

- Smashed fence. - (THUDDING)

12 guineas.

(THUDDING CONTINUES)

Damaged lamppost.

- £4.6s. - (THUDDING)

(THUDDING CONTINUES)

Destruction o' hen house.

Um... Ach!

How can a man figure out all this with all this hubbub?

(ANGRY SHOUTING)

- I will not be put off! - Pay my bill!

Silence! You'll get your money in due course.

Now go along with you.

I'll pay no more today.

Why did I ever assume the responsibility of looking after...

Ach.

Didn't I tell you...

Ah.

It's you, Rat. And Mole, too.

Thank goodness, lads.

You've come at last.

NARRATOR: Poor MacBadger. He'd reached the end of his rope.

- For as he said himself... - I'm practically a nervous wreck.

I say, MacBadger, what seems to be the trouble?

Summat's got to be done about Toad!

This time he's going too far.

- But he promised us. - Promises?

What good are his promises when these wild manias take him?

Now, look. You're his closest friends.

- Are you not? - Yes.

- Very dear friends. - Then, lads,

you've got to find Toad and stop him.

- What's he doing? - He's got a new mania.

He's rampaging about the county in a canary-yellow gypsy cart.

With a horse named Cyril.

TOAD: Tally-ho!

(SINGING) Are we on our way to Nottingham

Brittingham or Buckingham?

Or any hammy hamlet by the sea? No!

Are we on our way to Devonshire Lancashire or Worcestershire?

I'm not so sure We'll have to wait and see

Are we on our way to Dover Or flowing merrily over

The jolly old road that goes to Plymouth Ho?

No!

We're merrily, merrily, merrily merrily, merrily on our way

To nowhere in particular

We're merrily, merrily, merrily merrily, merrily on our way

Though the roads are perpendicular

- We're always in a hurry - We have no time to stall

We've got to be there, got to be there Here we come to call

We're merrily, merrily, merrily merrily, merrily on our way

And we may be going to Devonshire to Lancashire, to Worcestershire

We're not so sure but what do we care?

We're only sure we've got to be there

We're merrily on our way to nowhere at all

Hello, you fellows. You're the very animals I was coming to see.

Come along. Hop up here. We'll go for a jolly ride.

TOAD: The open road. The dusty highway.

Come! I'll show you the world.

Travel! Change! Excitement!

Ha, ha, ha!

CYRIL: Ahem!

Ahem.

How stupid of me.

I want you fellows to meet my noble steed, Cyril.

That's me. (CLICKS TONGUE)

A bit of a trotter, a bit of a rotter.

How do you do? How do you do? (POSH) How do you do?

How do you do?

I say, guvnor, your friends seem to be a bit on the stuffy side. What?

We want to have a talk with you.

Oh. A visit?

- Splendid. - RAT: This is serious.

You've got to give up that horse and cart.

Give up my...

But my dear Ratty, (CHUCKLES)

this is my career.

- Surely you can't mean... - I do mean it.

You've got to stop this foolishness.

- No. - You must.

- I won't do it. - Your reckless behavior...

I won't.

RAT: You're fast becoming a menace to society.

If you won't think of yourself, think of poor, old MacBadger.

As for that horse, no good can ever come from

gadding about with such a fast and irresponsible beast.

- Get him, Mole. - Come down, Toady.

Stop it. Let me go.

Giddy up, Cyril!

It's no use. You'll never get me to give this up.

Whee! Tally-ho!

Yikes!

(HORN)

(CYRIL WHINNIES)

Hey...

(ENGINE SPLUTTERS)

(HORN)

Gad!

- What is it? - Lumme, Guvnor!

- It's a motor car. - Motor car?

(ENGINE BACKFIRES)

(SPLUTTERING)

(CRASHING)

(CAR HORN)

A motor car.

Gad.

What have I been missing?

(IMITATES SOUND OF ENGINE)

Ratty...

It isn't... He hasn't...

It is and he has.

A new mania. Motor mania!

NARRATOR: Mania. That's it. That's what it was.

A positive mania.

No telling where it would end, either. Might linger for months.

And with Toad Hall at stake,

well, Rat and Mole had no choice.

There was only one thing to do.

Lock the poor chap in his chambers and keep him there.

Until the poison worked out of his system.

(TOAD MAKES CAR NOISES)

Hold him, Moley.

(SPLUTTERS)

RAT: That's better. And you can't escape.

There's simply no use trying.

Let me out of here. Open up.

Open up, I tell you. Please! Ratty! Moley! Open the door.

Playing jailer to one's dearest friend wasn't exactly a pleasant situation.

In fact, Moley weakened right at the start and wanted to call it quits.

But Ratty said no, definitely not. This time, they must be firm.

(RATTLING)

(THUDDING)

After all, it wasn't just a matter of saving Toad from himself.

There was MacBadger to consider, and Toad Hall and all that it stood for.

There was only one thing wrong with Ratty's cure for Toad's motor mania.

It didn't work.

You see, Toad was far too clever and at the moment, completely mad.

He was determined to get a motor car.

Even if he had to beg, borrow or...

MAN: Toad arrested!

(VERY RAPIDLY) His Majesty's Court of Assizes...

Toad of Toad Hall... 24th August... On the following brief...

(BLUSTERS)

(CLEARS THROAT)

Accuses J. Thaddeus Toad of stealing a motor car...

In reckless manner on a high road...

To the endangerment of the subjects of His Majesty... Their life and limbs.

Counsel for the Crown, proceed with the case.

M'Lord, I call as first Crown witnesses

Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole!

Is it true that you had the accused locked in his own house

because he threatened to get a motor car?

Did you or did you not have him locked up?

- We did. - Thank you. That is all.

JUDGE: Next witness. CLERK: Mr. Angus MacBadger!

As trustee of the Toad estate,

you knew of the prisoner's mania for motor cars.

Well...

Due to his reckless extravagance, you cut off his allowance.

Well...

Then he was, to the best of your knowledge, without funds.

- Well... - That is all. Thank you.

COUNSEL FOR CROWN: Gentlemen of the jury, the Crown rests.

Counsel for the defense will present his case.

(CLEARS THROAT)

M'lud, with the court's indulgence,

I rise prepared to plead my own defense.

(CLAPPING)

RAT: Moley.

Stop it.

Gentlemen of the jury,

I call as my first witness Cyril Proudbottom.

CLERK: Cyril Proudbottom.

(WHINNYING)

Are you acquainted with the defendant, J. Thaddeus Toad?

Lord, love a duck, yes!

He's one of the jolliest chaps I have ever run across.

And simply tons of money!

Good fellow, eh? Throws it away?

But he wasn't throwing it away that day.

You heard Mr. MacBadger testify that his allowance was cut off.

Then how did he get a motor car?

The only way a gentleman gets anything.

- The honest way. - And what is the honest way?

Ha, ha! I thought you wouldn't know that.

(LAUGHTER)

Your Lordship, I...

The witness may testify in his own words.

Righto, guvnor. Now I'll give you the facts of the case.

For when Toady escaped from his boudoir,

he come heading straight for my place.

Soon we was off down the highway, but hadn't gone far, I confess,

when all of a sudden, with a rush and a roar,

something passed like the London Express.

It was big. It was red.

It was beautiful.

A motor car!

A bit of all right.

Toady was transfixed with rapture.

You could tell it was love at first sight.

The motor pulled up to a tavern,

wherein was located a bar.

And we watched while some tough-looking weasels

got out of that lovely red car.

Now, weasels, I know, are deceitful. And not to be trusted at all.

But how could I know they'd stolen that car?

I didn't have no crystal ball.

And the guvnor, he's not one to dally.

He made up his mind like a flash. He says...

"Try it for size, my good Cyril, while I see what they'll take for it cash."

So into the tavern he saunters,

where the barman was back o' the bar. And he said...

Cheerio, tavern-keeper, who's the owner of that hot-looking car?

CYRIL: The barman, a codger named Winky,

leaned over the bar and said...

Why?

- CYRIL: The guvnor answered... - That car must be mine.

Whatever the price is, I'll buy.

But Toad found he hadn't no money.

So he promptly offered a trade.

The weasels appeared to be willing. In a moment, the bargain was made.

Then Toady drawed up a paper with almost incredible speed.

And he called on old Winky the barman

to pop over and witness the deed.

Now, the guvnor's not a bit stingy.

He never does anything small.

The weasels gave him the red motor car.

And he gave the weasels Toad Hall.

Hmm.

Traded Toad Hall? An estate worth £100,000.

For a motor car!

You expect me to believe that?

I don't expect you to believe anything.

But fortunately, I can produce a witness.

Call Mr. Winky.

CLERK: Mr. Winky. Mr. Winky.

(JUDGE BANGS GAVEL)

M'Lord, gentlemen,

facing you in the witness box is a citizen of substance and standing.

A man of unimpeachable honesty.

Now, Mr. Winky, do you recall an incident

that took place in your establishment last August 12th

that I was a party to?

Oh, yes, sir.

That I do, sir.

Well, then, (CHUCKLES)

just tell the court what actually happened.

Well, guvnor.

You tried to sell me a stolen motor car.

That's a deliberate lie, you monkey-faced little rumpot.

I've been framed. Let me go!

Help!

MAN: Toad guilty!

NARRATOR: News of Toad's disgrace rocked the nation.

Seems the court was determined to make an example of him.

Of course, Toad's friends tried to help him, but they were blocked.

They must have reopened the case at least a dozen times.

Appealed to this court, that court, any court.

But the decision stood.

The case of J. Thaddeus Toad was closed.

(SINGING) Merry, merry Christmastime

Bind every heart with happiness...

NARRATOR: Yes, once again it was a white Christmas.

And once again, the melodies of Yuletide

hung sweet upon the winter's air.

Hearts were gay and spirits high.

Indeed, in all the city, there was but one spot

untouched by the warmth of Christmas cheer.

The tower. Grim monument to despair.

Cold, cruel, forbidding.

And unfortunately, the abode of Toad

for a good many Christmases yet to come.

Poor Toad. Alone with the memories of his wasted life.

What a fool he'd been.

With many a pang, he recalled the kindly face of Angus MacBadger,

and his sage advice so often scorned.

A tear for Moley, too, for his loyalty, his sympathy, his understanding.

And Toad wept for Rat, and all those little lectures so often laughed at.

Yes, within the dark confines of his miserable cell,

a new Toad was born.

A reformed Toad. A repentant Toad.

In a flood of remorse, he vowed once and for all

to forsake the follies of the primrose path.

Never, never again would he give way to those mad, foolish manias

that had brought him to this sorry end.

Being as it's Christmas, you're allowed a visitor.

- Your grandma's here. - Grandma?

(HIGH-PITCHED) A merry Christmas, sonny.

Granny wouldn't forget her little Toady boy.

- Cyril! - Shh!

(CREAKING)

Oh. (SOBS)

Cyril. (SOBS)

Look, Christmas gift.

- (STUTTERS) What is it? - Don't you get it?

A disguise.

Now, all you've got to do is put on this natty little costume and...

NARRATOR: Alas, for good intentions, Toad was incurable.

One whispered word and all his high resolve

vanished in the mad whirl of this new adventure, this new mania.

Escape!

- Toad's escaped! - (SIRENS)

(SIRENS CONTINUE)

- (TOAD GASPS) - (FRENZIED BARKING)

(SIRENS CONTINUE TO BLARE)

MAN: Halt!

- Oh, good evening, ma'am. - Good evening to you, Officer.

(SINGING) We're merrily, merrily, merrily merrily...

(CLANKING)

Begging your pardon, milady...

- Hey! - (THUDDING)

POLICEMAN: You fellows over there, you see him?

NARRATOR: Gad! What perfectly ripping luck.

Trap Toad, would they? Aha! Never!

MAN: There he goes.

- POLICEMAN: Where? - Over there!

(WHISTLE)

Bang, bang, bang.

NARRATOR: Blockheads, let them scour the countryside.

Once more, J. Thaddeus Toad had the last laugh.

That same Christmas Eve, along the riverbank,

the name of Toad was banned from conversation,

lest the memory of his disgrace becloud the merriment of the season.

And yet there was one home at least in which two loyal hearts

still held the warmth of Christian charity.

Bless this good food we are about to enjoy.

Bless us, every one.

And bless poor Toad.

And may he get time off for good behavior.

(WHISTLING)

Why, it's a poor old lady.

Let's take her over by the fire.

Ow!

Toad!

What are you doing here?

- I was just... - Well, this is a merry Christmas.

- But aren't you afraid of the police? - Afraid of the police?

(LAUGHS)

I, Toad, afraid of the police?

- MALE: Open up! Open up, I say! - The police!

Hide me.

Sorry, but you owe a debt to society and you've got to pay.

Let them in.

- (KNOCKING) - But, Ratty...

- Don't you think, maybe... - Open the door.

RAT: MacBadger.

(PANTS) Aye, lads.

I've just made a very important discovery.

Toad Hall is ablaze with lights.

And in possession of a pack of weasels.

And the leader of the gang is none other than Mr...

WEASELS: Winky!

WEASEL: Hip, hip...

Hooray!

And so, you see, he did trade Toad Hall for the motor car.

Then Toad was innocent all the time.

Aye, lads, and if he were only here, right now...

- Toad! - Angus.

Sorry, Toad, I misjudged you.

I hope someday you'll find it in your heart...

Tut-tut, not another word.

To err is human, to forgive...

Thaddeus, not so fast.

You're still guilty in the eyes of the law.

To prove your innocence, we've got to get that paper away from Winky.

Now, I have a plan.

We'll sneak in through the secret tunnel.

NARRATOR: It was an excellent plan,

cunningly contrived, but extremely dangerous.

It would work only if each did his part.

There was no margin for error.

The odds against them were tremendous.

But the stakes were high.

Now steady's the word.

One false move and four lives hang in the balance.

Careful, lads. There's a guard.

- I'll pop him off. - Stop!

Who goes there?

NARRATOR: Phew! That was a close one.

Trust Toad to start things off on the wrong foot.

Well, no turning back now.

Nothing for it but to push on.

What new and greater perils lay ahead no one could say.

For with Toad already getting out of hand, anything could happen.

(WHIRRING)

(DOOR CREAKS)

(SNORING)

MOLE: Oh, look. They're all asleep.

MacBADGER: Lads, they're drunk. They've been hitting the bottle.

- But where's Winky? - RAT: There he is.

MacBADGER: Shh. He's got the paper on him.

(WHISPERS) We'll have to climb up on the balcony.

(SNORES)

(GULPS)

The paper. It's gone.

Oi.

Get 'em.

I beg your pardon.

Moley! Moley!

Over here.

WINKY: After it.

(LAUGHING) Just one more.

There he is. Get him.

Where's Moley?

Well, laddies, we saved our skins.

But we did not get the deed.

TOAD: Ahem!

- Well done, Thaddeus. - ALL: Hip, hip, hooray!

NARRATOR: And so it was a happy ending after all.

Toad's friends were dreadfully proud of him.

And why not? He was a new toad now, completely reformed,

through with gypsy carts and motor cars forever.

And so, on this happiest of New Years, a toast was in order.

To the New Year! And to the new Toad.

(CRASHING)

(WHIRRING)

TOAD: Hello, you fellows.

Come, I'll show you the world.

Travel! Change! Excitement!

(TOAD LAUGHS)

And that was the fabulous Thaddeus Toad.

But let's weigh our judgment carefully, we moles and rats and badgers.

Really, now, don't we envy him a bit?

(CHUCKLES) I know I do.

So when we speak of fabulous characters,

the most fabulous of all will always be,

to me at least, the master of Toad Hall.

(NARRATOR LAUGHS) Oh, yes. That J. Thadd was quite a lad.

Speaking of fabulous characters,

England has produced a bumper crop of them.

But don't forget over here in the Colonies

we've come up with a few of our own.

How about Paul Bunyan, Pecos Bill and Johnny Appleseed,

Black Bart, Davy Crockett, Daniel Boone?

And, of course, the one and only Ichabod Crane.

Old Ichy, if you recall, was the country schoolmaster,

dreamed up by Washington Irving.

He had a way with a yarn, did Mr. Irving.

If we could but journey back to that remote period in American history,

when the city of Manhattan was but a market town,

we would discover in the bosom of one of those spacious coves,

which indent the shores of the Hudson,

the little village of Tarrytown.

And just beyond, nestled deep in the low, rolling hills,

a sequestered glen.

It's a quiet, peaceful place and yet somehow foreboding.

For it abounds in haunted spots, twilight tales and local superstitions.

The best-known story concerns a certain itinerant schoolmaster

who once frequented these parts.

Indeed, some say his melancholy spirit still haunts the vicinity.

The worthy pedagogue was described as a most unusual man.

To see him striding along, one might mistake him for some scarecrow

eloped from a cornfield.

He was tall, but exceedingly lank.

His head was small and flat on top with a long, snipe nose

so that it looked like a weathercock perched upon his spindle neck.

All together, he was such an apparition

as is seldom to be seen in broad daylight.

It was late one drowsy autumn afternoon

when this strange figure first approached

the tranquil little village of Sleepy Hollow.

As usual, there had gathered at

the Olde Schnooker and Schnapps Shoppe

a group of rustic lads known as the Sleepy Hollow Boys.

MAN: Yahoo!

(DOGS BARK EXCITEDLY)

Their self-appointed leader, one Brom Bones,

was a burly, roistering blade always ready for a fight. Or a frolic.

And though Brom was much given to madcap pranks, practical jokes,

there was no malice in his mischief.

Indeed, with his waggish humor and prodigious strength,

Brom Bones was quite the hero of all the country round.

(HORSE WHINNIES)

Odds bodkins! Gadzooks!

Look at that old spook of spirits.

(SINGING) Who's that coming down the street?

Are they shovels or are they feet?

- Lean and lanky - Skin and bones

With clothes a scarecrow would hate to own

Yet he has a certain air

Debonair and devil-may-care

- It's the new schoolmaster - What's his name?

Ichabod

Ichabod Crane

Ichabod

- What a name - Kind of odd

But nice just the same

Funny pan, funny frame

Ichabod, Ichabod Crane

Ichabod may be quaint

May be odd and maybe he ain't

Anyway, there's no complaint

From Ichabod, Ichabod Crane

Though the arrival of the pedagogue

Gave rise to mixed emotions

The townspeople agreed they'd never seen anyone

Like Ichabod, Ichabod Crane

The schoolroom became Ichabod's empire,

over which with lordly dignity, he held absolute sway.

Truth to say, Ichabod was a conscientious man.

He bore in my mind the maxim,

"Spare the rod and spoil the child."

Still, he was careful to administer justice with discrimination.

For it behooved him to keep on good terms with his pupils.

Especially if their mothers happened to be good cooks.

(SINGING) Who's the town's ladies' man?

Gets around like nobody can

Has to be none other than

Ichabod, Ichabod Crane

Thus, as time went by,

it may be seen that the pedagogue got on tolerably enough.

Moreover, Ichabod found diverse ways to increase his slender income.

And at the same time,

awaken the cultural interests of the sleepy little village.

(WOMEN HOLDING HIGH NOTE)

(SINGING IN HARMONY)

(SINGING NOTES)

(ALL SIGHING)

(DOG HOWLING)

(ALL GASPING)

(SIGHING)

(SINGING) Mi, mi, mi, mi, mi, mi, mi, mi, mi

NARRATOR: It was inevitable such a man as Ichabod

would become an object of ridicule

to Brom Bones and his gang.

And yet to Ichabod, these were small matters.

The schoolmaster possessed a remarkable equanimity

which remained quite undisturbed

until that fateful day his path was crossed by a woman.

A certain woman.

Katrina van Tassel, daughter and only child of old Baltus van Tassel,

the richest farmer in the county.

She was a blooming lass, plump as a partridge.

Ripe, melting and rosy-cheeked.

(SINGING) Once you have met that little coquette, Katrina

You won't forget Katrina

But nobody yet has ever upset Katrina

That cute coquette, Katrina

You can do more with Margaret or Helena

Or Ann or Angelina

But Katrina will kiss and run To her a romance is fun

With always another one to start

Yet when you've met that little coquette, Katrina

You've lost your heart

(CHILDREN SHOUTING)

There was no doubt

the fair Katrina was the richest prize in the countryside.

And the schoolmaster, being an ambitious man,

at once began to fill his mind

with many sugared thoughts and hopeful suppositions.

ICHABOD: (THINKING) Ah, Katrina, my love.

Who can resist your grace?

Your charm?

And who can resist your father's farm?

Boy, what a set-up.

There's gold in them acres and that ain't hay.

(COINS TINKLING)

Not to mention that lovely green stuff.

Oh-ho-ho-ho, ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo.

Oh, Katrina, my sweet, my treasure.

Treasure. (LAUGHING)

That barn's a gold mine. How I'd love to hit the jackpot.

Dear Katrina,

Papa's only child.

Papa?

The old goat can't take it with him. When he cuts out, that's where I cut in.

Sweet Katrina, poor little rich girl.

Don't worry, Katy. Ichabod will protect you.

Katrina, you've won me.

I surrender.

(WOMEN SINGING) And yet when you've met that little coquette, Katrina

(SPLUTTERS)

You've lost your heart

NARRATOR: Truth to say, every portal

to Katrina's heart was jealously guarded

by a host of rustic admirers.

But Ichabod was confident he would soon ride roughshod

over these simple country bumpkins.

The most formidable obstacle of all, the schoolmaster failed to reckon with.

That was the redoubtable Brom Bones himself.

The ease with which Brom cleared the field of rivals

both piqued and provoked the fair Katrina.

She often wished that some champion would appear and take the field openly

against the boisterous Brom.

Though a wiser man would have shrunk from the competition,

love is blind.

Ichabod was aware only that Dame Fortune was at last at his door.

It's true that Brom liked a joke as well as the next.

But enough was too much.

(SMOOCHING)

It was time to carry the issue to open warfare.

He'd double that schoolmaster up

and lay him on a shelf in his own schoolhouse.

But this, it seemed, was easier said than done.

KATRINA: Yoo-hoo!

(ICHABOD WHISTLING TUNE)

(CHUCKLES) No doubt of it, this was Ichabod's lucky day.

It was evident the schoolmaster was indeed a man of hidden talents.

A rival to be reckoned with.

Still, wars are neither won nor lost at the first encounter.

The high-flying pedagogue might yet be brought to earth.

For Brom Bones was never a man to cry quits.

It was upon the occasion of her father's annual Halloween frolic

that Katrina again chose to stir the embers of the smoldering rivalry.

Thus, one invitation in particular

carried a most personal and provocative summons.

(HUMS)

The worthy schoolmaster was in a transport of joy.

To him, this could mean but one thing.

Ha-ha! Ichy, you sly old dog, you.

What is this strange power you have over women?

Tonight's the night, boy.

(HUMMING)

Just turn on the old charm and the fair Katrina is yours for the asking.

(CONTINUES HUMMING)

(WHISTLING TUNE)

So gaily bedecked,

nobly mounted upon a horse he had borrowed for the occasion,

Ichabod issued forth like a knight-errant of old

to keep a tryst with his lady fair.

(ICHABOD WHISTLES)

In all the countryside there was nothing to equal a merrymaking

at Mynheer van Tassel's farm.

To Ichabod, here was a perfect field for his endeavors.

Now, indeed, would he put his best foot forward.

Beyond all his other talents,

the schoolmaster prided himself upon his dancing.

The unhappy Brom, bested at every turn,

saw himself once more outmatched.

For as he watched the posturing pedagogue, he had to admit that here

was a flawless picture of ease and grace.

(GIGGLING)

There was no doubt that Ichabod was the man of the hour.

Brom knew he must concede his rival still another victory.

And yet there was still a chance his time would come.

For when the hour grew late,

van Tassel always called upon his guests

to tell him ghostly tales of Halloween.

Brom knew there was no more firm and potent believer in spooks and goblins

than Ichabod Crane.

Just gather round and I'll elucidate

on what goes on outside when it gets late.

Round about midnight the ghosts and banshees

get together for their nightly jamboree.

There's things with horns and saucer eyes.

Some with fangs about this size.

- Some are fat. - And some are thin.

And some don't even wear their skin.

I'm telling you, brother, it's a frightful sight.

To see what goes on Halloween night.

(SINGING) When the spooks have a midnight jamboree

They break it up with fiendish glee

Ghosts are bad but the one that's cursed

Is the Headless Horseman He's the worst

That's right he's a fright on Halloween night

But when he goes a-joggin' 'cross the land

Holdin' his noggin in his hand

Demons take one look and groan

And hit the road for parts unknown

Beware, take care, he rides alone

And there's no spook like a spook who's spurned

They don't like him and he's really burned

He swears to the longest day he's dead

He'll show them that he can get a head

They say he's tired of his flamin' top

He's got a yen to make a swap

So he rides one night each year

To find a head in the hollow here

Now, he likes them little he likes them big

Parted in the middle or a wig

Black or white or even red

The Headless Horseman needs a head

With a hip-hip and a clippity-clop

He's out lookin' for a top to chop

So don't stop to figure out a plan

You can't reason with a headless man

Now, if you doubt this tale is so

I met that spook just a year ago

No, I didn't stop for a second look

I made for the bridge that spans the brook

For once you cross that bridge my friends

The ghost is through, his power ends

So when you're riding home tonight

Make for the bridge with all your might

He'll be down in the hollow there

He needs your head, look out, beware

With a hip-hip and a clippity-clop

He's out looking for a head to swap

So don't try to figure out a plan

You can't reason with a headless man

NARRATOR: In the very witching hour of night,

Ichabod pursued his travel homeward.

The sky grew darker and darker

as one by one the stars winked out their lights

and driving clouds obscured the moon from sight.

Never had the schoolmaster felt so melancholy.

So utterly alone.

And the nearer he approached the hollow, the more dismal he became.

(ICHABOD WHISTLES)

(WHISTLES)

(WHISTLING ECHOES)

(WIND HOWLS)

(HIGH-PITCHED BIRD CALL)

Once inside the murky glen, Ichabod's anxiety increased one hundredfold.

For now the forest seemed to close in behind him.

Every small detail of Brom's awful story returned to haunt his recollection.

(BIRD CALL)

(HOWLING WIND)

(HOWLING)

(SCREAMS)

(DISTORTED VOICES)

(OWL HOOTS)

(CROAKY VOICE)

(TOAD CROAKS)

(CAWING)

(HOOTING)

(CREAKING)

(NOISING SOUNDING IN UNISON)

(OWL HOOTS)

(FROG CROAKS)

(ICHABOD SCREAMS)

(CROW CAWS)

(SOUND OF HOOVES)

(SOUND OF HOOVES CONTINUES)

(CATTAILS BEATING)

(LAUGHS NERVOUSLY)

(LAUGHS HYSTERICALLY)

(MANIACAL LAUGHTER)

(NEARBY CACKLING)

(CACKLES)

(WHINNIES)

(YELLING)

(WHINNIES)

(HORSEMAN CACKLES)

BROM: Once you cross that bridge, my friends,

the ghost is through, his power ends.

(CACKLES)

(CACKLING)

Next morning, Ichabod's hat was found.

And close beside it, a shattered pumpkin.

But there was no trace of the schoolmaster.

(BELL RINGING)

It was shortly thereafter that Brom Bones led the fair Katrina to the altar.

Now, rumors persisted that Ichabod was still alive

and married to a wealthy widow in a distant county.

But, of course, the good Dutch settlers refused to believe such nonsense,

for they knew the schoolmaster had been spirited away

by the Headless Horseman.

(CACKLES)

(SINGING) With a hip-hip and a clippity-clop

He's out looking for a head to swap

But don't try to figure out a plan

You can't reason with a headless man

Man, I'm getting outta here.