All language subtitles for T A O O a H S01E02 The Poet 1080p AMZN WEB-DL AAC2 0 H 264-WhatsBeyond (1)_track3_[eng]

- What'll you have
for lunch, boys?

- I'll have a Listerine
sandwich, please.

- A Listerine sandwich?

Listerine is a mouthwash.

- Maybe it is to
most people but it's

bread and butter to us, boy.

- Listerine antiseptic
and Listerine toothpaste

present America's favorite
family comedy, "The Adventures

of Ozzie and Harriet," starring
the entire Nelson family.

Here is Ozzie, who plays
the part of Ozzie Nelson.

And of course, his lovely wife
Harriet as Harriet Nelson.

The older of the Nelson boys,
David, appears as David Nelson.

And his younger brother,
the irrepressible Ricky,

played by Ricky Nelson.

The Nelson's next door neighbor
Thorny is played by Don DeFore.

- Come on, David.

Let's go toss a ball around.

- Can't you see I'm busy?
- Busy?

- Yeah.
That's what I said.

Busy.
- OK.

OK.
So you're busy.

- I take it David's busy.

- Is he?

- I have to do some
homework for Monday.

- Why don't you do it Sunday
night the way you usually do,

Dave?

- I have to memorize
something, Pop.

- What is it, David?

- It's for English.

I have to memorize
a poem, recite it

in front of the class.

- I'm going to skip
that class, boy.

- You got to take it, Dopey.
- Well, wait a minute.

It isn't a question that
you have to take English.

That's one of the most important
courses in the whole school.

Everybody should have a thorough
knowledge of his language

so he can express
himself properly and make

himself understood.

- You can understand me.

Can't you, David?
- Sure.

- See, Pop?

I never even seen the classroom.

- I never even
"saw" the classroom.

- And I can
understand David, too.

- What are you going
to recite, dear?

- Oh, I don't know, mom.

"Charge of the Light
Brigade," maybe, or "The Boy

Stood On The Burning Deck."
- I know that one.

- What one?

- "The Boy Stood On
The Burning Deck."

- Oh, I think you're
mistaken, dear.

That's quite a long poem.

- You want hear it?

- I'm not sure.

- "The boy stood on
the burning deck,

his feet were full of blisters.

He climbed the loft,
his pants burned off,

and now he wears his sister's."

- I think that's slightly
different from the original.

- Why don't you recite
something unusual, David?

Something that hasn't been
kicked around so much.

- Like what, Pop?

- Well I remember
once when I had

to recite a poem for
English, I chose something

from William Shakespeare.

"This thou perceivest which
makes thy love more strong."

- Golly.

Do you call that English?

- Well, you're darn right I do.

That's Shakespeare.

- I think we have a big
book of poems, David.

- Yeah, that's what I
was looking for, mom.

Only I couldn't find it.

- I don't know why you bother
with that sissy stuff anyway,

David.

- Oh, here it is, I think.

Yes, this is it.

Well, listen to this.

Ozzie.

- I'm listening.

- "And on that cheek, and o'er
that brow, so soft, so calm,

yet eloquent.

The smiles that win,
the tints glow, but tell

of days in goodness spent.

A mind at peace with all below.

A heart whose love is innocent."

- Gee, that's a beautiful
poem, Harriet, isn't it?

- Don't you recognize it?

- Well, no, I don't.

- Well, you should.

You know the author very well.

- Really?

Oh, give me a hint.

- Well, a very handsome
and dashing young man

wrote this poem.

- Gee, isn't that funny?

I don't even
remember writing it.

Evidently, if your
mother says so.

Gee, that's neat.

Maybe I can learn it for Monday.

- Oh, that's a
wonderful idea, David.

It's a beautiful poem.

- Oh.

Thank you, dear.

- Sounds kind of mushy to me.

- It's not at all mushy, Ricky.

It's a lovely poem
for David to memorize.

- I like it.

- Sentiment is simple and
sincere, and just think,

it was written by
his own father.

- Besides, it's
only six lines long.

- A shorter poem than that.

- Let's hear it.

- "The history of fleas.

Adam had 'em."

- Why don't you boys go
out and play football?

- Come on.

Let's go, Rick.

- I know another poem.

- "Under the spreading
chestnut tree--"

- Let me take another look at
that poem, will you, Harriet?

"And on that cheek, and o'er
that brow, so soft, so calm,

yet eloquent."

- You know, that really is good.

I never fully realized what
a talented fellow you are.

- Oh, and why did you marry me?

Because I had a ukulele
and a raccoon coat?

- I guess so.

Hey, speaking of
raccoon coat, you better

run down to barbers
and get a haircut.

You really look like
the shaggy haired poet.

- Oh, really?

"This is the forest primeval."

- It certainly is.

- No, no.

That's a poem we had to
learn in high school.

I bet you don't
know who wrote it.

- I bet you better
get your haircut.

- No, no.
Come on.

Come on.

Give a guess.

It's a long and mellow poem.

Long mellow.

Now do you know?

- All I know is
you better hurry up

or the barbershop
will be closed.

I'm not going to leave
until you make a guess.

Come on, it's easy.

A long, mellow poem.

All right, dear.

You win.

You're much too smart for me.

- I thought you'd
get it right away.

- Better tell the barber to
trim it pretty good in the back.

Getting pretty long fellow.

- My hand, please.

- Oh hiya, Thorny.

- Well, if it isn't the
poet laureate himself?

Greetings and salutations,
my intellectual neighbor.

- I take it the boys
have been talking to you?

- Yeah, I just saw them,
Oz, and they told me

about the beautiful poem
you wrote for Harriet.

- Oh well, it's just a little
thing I wrote years ago.

- Say, how'd the poem go, Oz?

The boys couldn't
quite remember it.

Something about--
- Oh.

- On the brow.

- I have a copy
of it right here.

Harriet found it in a book.

"And on that cheek, and o'er
that brow, so soft, so calm,

yet eloquent.

The smiles that win, the
tints that glow, but tell

of days in goodness spent.

A mind at peace with
all below, a heart

whose love is innocent."

- Well, gee, Oz.

I don't know too
much about poetry,

but that sounds
pretty terrific to me.

How come you haven't
written anything lately?

- Oh, I write occasional things.

You know, on Harriet's birthday
or anniversaries or occasions

like that.

- Yeah.

Say, wait a minute.

Maybe you can do me a favor?

Sure you can.

You're just the man I need.

- You're kidding me now.

- No, I mean it, Oz.

- You see, Catherine's
birthday's next week

and I've been racking
my brain trying

to think of a little something
to surprise her with.

Do you think you're
going to write

a little something for me?

You know, a little something
personal or special.

- Well, like I said, I haven't
written anything quite a while,

but I'd be glad
to give it a try.

- Oh, you're a real friend, Oz.

Catherine--

- Well, it doesn't
have to be right away.

- No, no, no, no.

Sometimes you get those
inspirations pretty fast.

To Catherine.

Catherine's pretty,
Catherine's sweet.

Catherine's pretty,
Catherine's sweet.

I love you Catherine from
your head to your feet.

- Well, there's hurry.

- No, no, no, no.

Wait-- Wait a minute.

Just-- just let me stay
within a minute now.

Catherine's pretty,
Catherine's sweet.

I love you Catherine from
your head to your feet.

I'll love you Catherine
the rest of my life,

I'm glad you aren't
somebody else's wife.

How do you like it?

- Well, it's fine, Oz.

Like you say, you have written
any poetry for quite a while--

- You mean you don't like it?

- Oh no, it's great, Oz.

Try to get something
just like that,

only a whole lot different.

- Well, I'll kind of
mull it over in my mind

as I'm going downtown.

- You work on it, Oz.

I know you can get it.

- Catherine--

- Hello, dear.

This is Aunt Ellen.

- Oh, hello, Aunt Ellen.

Say listen, I want
you to hear something.

"And on that cheek, and o'er
that brow, so soft, so calm,

yet eloquent.

The smiles that win, The
tints that glow, but tell

of days in goodness spent."

- Well, that's
really lovely, dear.

- Isn't it, though?

I kept it all these years my
old book of high school poems.

- Oh, yes.

I remember it now.

I often wondered what became
of the boy who wrote those.

The tall, thin, studious
boy with a corduroy jacket,

and the glasses.

- But, Aunt Ellen,
Ozzie wrote this.

- Oh no, I'm sure that--

Oh yes, of course.

Ozzie definitely
wrote that poem.

I distinctly remember it now.

Well, goodbye, dear.

It was nice of you to call.

- Wait a minute, Aunt Ellen.

You called me.

- I did?

Oh, well, I'm sorry
I called, dear.

- But, Aunt Ellen, I was
positive as Ozzie wrote this.

I just talked him into
believing it himself.

- Well, of course Ozzie wrote
it, and no matter what you say

you can't convince
me that it was really

written by Clifford Henshaw.

- Clifford Henshaw, of course.

The class poet.

- Now, Harriet, Clifford
Henshaw did not write that poem.

Ozzie did.

- Oh, Aunt Ellen,
stop pretending.

You know very well
Clifford wrote it.

Oh, Ozzie just came
in, Aunt Ellen.

I'll have to hang up.

- Oh, did he?

Harriet, would you--

- What, Aunt Ellen?

- Oh, nothing.

Ozzie might get
suspicious if you

left the phone off the hook.

- Goodbye, Aunt Ellen.

Ozzie?

- Yes, dear.

It is I.

- What's all this?

- Oh, I did a little shopping
while I was downtown.

Just a few things
I'll be needing.

How do you like this pipe?

It's a new special model.

- What an interesting shape.

Who'd you buy it
from, Sherlock Holmes?

- No.

This is called The
Poet's Companion.

And I bought these cans
of Ralph Waldo Emerson

tobacco and some Edgar
Guest pipe cleaners.

- Well, did you have to
buy four cans of tobacco?

- Well, they were having
a special on it today.

You see, if you bought
four cans of tobacco,

then you got this rhyming
dictionary free of charge.

I think it'll come in handy.

I really like this pipe, too.

I think it's a
rather unusual model.

- Well, before you get
too carried away, dear,

I have news for you.

- One moment, dear.

Look at the boys playing
football out there.

My mind drifts back through
the channels of time

to my own youth.

Oh, to be in New Jersey,
now that football is there.

You know, Harriet, I have
to confess something.

I really am taking in a little
bit by this poetry business.

It's kind of a nice
feeling to know that you

have some creative ability.

Lately, I've been
thinking of myself

as a rather dull,
unimaginative guy.

But this has given
me a whole new spark.

I'm glad you found
that poetry I wrote.

- Well, it makes you
happy dear, so am I.

- Oh, by the way, what was
it you wanted to tell me?

- Oh, nothing.

- Well, yes, don't you remember?

I mentioned something
about poetry

and then you said you
had some news for me

and I interrupted you.

- Well, it was-- it was
just that I think the barber

didn't take a knock
off the back here.

- Oh.

As a matter of fact,
he didn't take any off.

I changed my mind about that.

I decided against getting
a haircut, Harriet.

I think this gives me more of
an artistic feeling if it's long

like this.

- Well, you may be
right at that, dear.

You know this is a strange
uncertain world we live in

and that extra padding
might come in pretty handy.

- Well, how so?

- Well, in case you hear
some surprising news and fall

on your head.

- "And on that cheek, and o'er
that brow, so soft, so calm,

yet eloquent.

The smiles that win, the
tints that glow, but tell

of days in goodness spent.

A mind at peace with
all below, a heart

whose love is innocent."

Well, how was it?

- Oh, yeah.

Swell.

Yay!

- OK.

Don't overdo it.

- What's going on
in here, fellas?

- Hi, mom.
I got Pop's poem memorized.

- Why am I worn out?

- You're worn out?

David's memorizing the poem.

- Yeah, I know.

But every time he finishes,
I have to applaud.

- David, there's
something I think your

should know about that poem.
- Listen, Mom.

"And on that cheek, and o'er
that brow, so soft, so calm."

Wait a minute, David.

- Yeah.

- I haven't finished yet, Ricky.

- That's why I'm applauding.

- David, I think you should
know that your daddy didn't

write that poem to me.

- I hope he didn't
write it to me.

- No, he didn't
write it to anybody.

It was written by somebody else.

- You said Pop wrote it.

- Well, I was mistaken, dear.

I'm sure you can find
another poem to memorize.

There ought to be
something in this book.

- Gee whiz.

- We'll find something
for you, David.

- And boys, there's no reason
to mention this to your father.

- Hey, here's one.

- What is it, dear?

- "Frankie and Johnny
were sweethearts.

Oh golly, how they could love."

- Oh, you better give
me the book, Ricky.

- She shoots him.
- Yes, I know.

- "She shot her man because
he'd done her wrong."

- Yes, dear, I'm
familiar with the poem.

- I think I heard Pop come in.

- Oh well, you boys
you better run upstairs

for a little while.

- Hi, Pop.
- Hello, boys.

- Hi, Pop.

- Hello, boys.

- What are you going
to do with that?

- Oh, I'm just going
to do a little typing.

You mind if I use the desk here?

- No, go right ahead.

What are you going to write?

- I promised Thorny I'd
dash off a little birthday

poem for Catherine.

- You know, just to watch you
I'd never guess you can't type.

- I think I'll title this
"To My Dearest Wife."

It's a little
schmaltzy but people

go for that sort of stuff.

- Want me to type it for you?

- Please, Harriet, I can type.

- "To my dearest wife."

Where's the T, Harriet.

- It's right next to the Y.

- Oh, yes.

Where's the Y?

- I'll type it for you.

- No, no.

I found it.

Y. We have an eraser?

- Don't tell me you
made a mistake already?

- Yeah, I hit the
Y instead of the T.

- Well, I'll tell you,
I'll change the title.

I'll call it "Your
Birthday Poem."

You know, that's a good title.

I think I like
that better anyway.

O--

- It's next to the I.
- Yes.

Yes.
Yes.

Yes.

- I know we've got a eraser
around here somewhere.

- Why don't you just
change the title?

- Well, I can't think of
anything that starts with Y I?

- Make it, "Yipe,
Another Birthday."

- Hey, mom.

Will you come listen to a poem?

Yes, David.

Excuse me, dear.

- That's OK.

Your birthday.

- It's right next to the E.

- Yes, dear.

- Hi, Oz.
- Hi, Thorny.

Sit down.

I'm just working on
Harriet's poem here.

- Well, I see you're
dressed for the part.

- Please, I'm trying
to concentrate.

I've got a nice title, I think.

"Your Birthday Poem."

- That speedy typing must make
your fingers awfully tired.

- Please, Thorny, I'm
trying to concentrate.

- Here.

Come on, Oz.

Let me show you how to make
the machine sit up and talk.

- Go ahead, if you
think you can do better.

- There you are.

How do you like that?

- Hmm, not bad.

- "Knock if the
tomb for Al Goodman

who came to the
yake of the paddy."

- And I hope you'll appreciate
the fact that not everybody can

type with the Scottish dialect.

- Well, see, I've
been thinking of us.

This is putting you to
an awful lot of trouble.

Why don't you just give me
a quarter and I'll buy her

a card?
- Oh, don't be foolish.

I'm always happy to help out
my less talented neighbors.

- Less talented?

Oh, now look, Oz.

Just because I don't
have a fancy looking pipe

sticking out of my
mouth, doesn't mean

I can't copy a poem
as well as you.

- Copy a poem?

What are you talking about?

- Now, you're not
going to really claim

that you wrote that poem
about "on that cheek and o're

that brow."
- Well, certainly.

Who do you think wrote it?

- Lord Byron.

Born in 1788, died 1824.

The poem is called
"She Walks In Beauty."

- Well, how do you
know so much about it?

- Because it's
printed on a blotter

my insurance man sent me.

- A blotter?

- Certainly.

He sends you one every month.

It's got poems printed
on it and clever sayings.

He used this poem
"She Walks In Beauty"

as an example of why you should
buy auto theft insurance.

The reason she's walking is
because somebody stole her car.

- Thorny, this is awful.

Well, I sent that poem
to Harriet years ago

and she thinks I wrote it.

- Well, I wouldn't
worry about it, Oz.

- What am I going
to tell Harriet?

What am I going
to tell the boys?

David's going to recite
this in school on Monday

and tell the teacher
his father wrote it.

- Well, guess I'll
be running along.

- No, no.

What's your hurry, Thorny?

- Well, I don't want to spend
too much time at one house.

I like can spread happiness
all over the neighborhood.

- Where are you going?

- Oh, hi.

Going down the barbershop.

I think I'll get a crew cut.

Or better yet, I think
I'll get my head shaved.

- What's the idea?

- Harriet, you didn't marry
an intelligent, artistic man

at all.

- Well, I married you,
if that's what you mean,

and I'm glad I did.

- Oh, it's nice of
you to say that.

What would your reaction
be if I told you

that that poem you found
wasn't written by me at all?

- My reaction would be to
find out which one of the boys

told you and give
him the Dickens.

- Then you know I
didn't write it?

- Well, yes, dear.

And now that you
found out, I want

you to know that there's
nothing between us.

- Oh.

Nothing between you.

Born in 1788.

- What are you mumbling about?

- Oh, I just figuring
something out.

Wasn't he a little old for you?

Well, no.

Clifford was only 16.

- Clifford?

- Clifford Henshaw, the boy
who wrote the poem to me.

- Oh.

Clifford Henshaw.

Yes.

Yes.

This is wonderful.

- What are you talking about?

- So Clifford Henshaw
wrote the poem to you?

- Oh, believe me, dear,
there was nothing to it.

It's just one of those
high school romances.

He probably didn't
mean a word of it.

- Well, this Clifford must
have been a very smart guy.

I mean, this is
an excellent poem.

- Yes, it is.

- Wouldn't you say he showed
great originality and great

talent?
- No.

I wouldn't say that.

- Well, why not?

- Because if I
did, then you'd say

it was written by Lord Byron.

- How did you know it was
written by Lord Byron?

- Well, if you must know,
I just found it out.

It's printed on this blotter
some insurance company sent us.

- Oh, so we got
one of these, too.

Clifford Henshaw,
insurance broker.

Say, he's got a lot of nerve.

- What do you mean?

- We've been married
all these years

and this guy is still
sending you poetry?

- Oh, don't be silly, dear.
It's only a blotter.

He probably sends them to
everybody in the phone book.

Are you jealous?

- Well, no, but I'll
tell you this much.

You suggest we buy any
insurance from this guy,

I'm going to go home to mother.

- Silly, Ozzie.

I haven't seen or heard
from Clifford Henshaw

since High School.

Well, he's a
happily married man.

- If you haven't seen or
heard from in so long,

how come you know
he's happily married?

- Somebody told me.

Oh, look, I have so little
interest in Clifford Henshaw,

I don't even know
his wife's name.

It's nice having
you jealous, though.

- I'm not jealous.

- You're not?

- Of course not.

- Her name's Marilyn.

- Well, how did you know?

- She joined the Woman's
Club a few months ago.

- Hey, wait a minute.

You don't have to know what
her maiden name was, do you?

- Bensfield, I believe.

- Bensfield.

Well, I'll be darned.

So Marilyn Bensfield
got married.

How about that?

Good old, eager lips Bensfield.

- You know her?

- Harriet, please.

No jealousy.

It was just a high
school romance.

We really didn't mean
anything to each other.

- She's a very attractive girl.

- Gorgeous is the word.

Now, look, if you're going
to get jealous we'll just

forget the whole thing.

All those nights on
Marilyn's front porch.

Oh, what a girl.

Skip the whole thing, Harriet.

- Oh, it sounds like it
must've been quite a romance.

- Now, please, Harriet.

This jealousy of yours
is absolutely ridiculous.

After all, we were
only engaged for--

Oh, there I blurted it out

- Ozzie, remember what
I said this morning

about letting your hair
grow a little longer in case

you needed some extra padding.

- Padding?

- In case you should fall
on your head sometime.

- Now, Harriet, I don't like
that funny look in your eyes.

No, I was only fooling honest.

I made the whole thing--

Honest, I was just kidding.

I think-- "And on the
cheek and o're that brow."

- What's the joke?

- Oh, nothing.

I was just looking
over this poem

again that-- that
Clifford supposedly wrote.

What a fraud.

- Well, it is a
lovely poem, though.

- Well, sure, it's a lovely
poem but he didn't write it.

Imagine taking credit
for somebody else's work?

- I guess you're right, dear.

- What's that?

- Oh, it's just
another old poem I

found in my high school annual.

- Something that Clifford
wrote, I suppose?

- No, this poem
was written by you.

- Oh.

Well, it may not be
terrific, but I'll

guarantee it's original.

- On the contrary, dear.

It's an excellent poem.

- Oh.

Would you read it to me?

- Sure.

"To Harriet, drink to
me only with thine eyes

and I will pledge with mine."

- Next week, "The Adventures
of Ozzie and Harriet,"

starring the entire
Nelson family--

Ozzie, Harriet,
David, and Ricky--

Will be brought to you by
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