Original subtitles

Subtitles by explosiveskull

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.

Subtitles by explosiveskull