Original subtitles

- 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 Hotpoint quality appliances.

Remember, look to Hotpoint for the finest first.