Guest Monty Woolley ( )

I'd be the man just breaking up he ain't here. Oh, how doppy. Tonight, a real big shot, doppy. Munchy Willie. And that ain't hay. Doppy, do you know the wise old actor with a big old brush?

Doppy, somebody's got a place. And of course at the Christmas party. So you know, as long as Munchy's gonna be here, you know the older doggy, old a beard and a hand. Ask him, well, I'll call you back, doppy.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to doppy stuff. Come in and meet Finnegan. Eddie's a waiter. Missed up. Our singer, Bob Graham, read Pete Reeves in his orchestra, and our special guest tonight, Monty Woolley. And Archie himself, F. Gartner.

Eddie, uh, where's it so? Miss Arthur, you got a new girl? Now Eddie, I want to write a poem on a mirror. A poem on a mirror? Certainly, me and your Christmas poem. An Eddie F. I do say so.

It's probably the funnest office I have ever, oh. You know, got that real Christmas flavor. Say, any chance I've felt a lot here in it? My auntie, listen to this. Merry Christmas to you, Giorgio.

Be of right cheer and joyous. Leave us your way long, under fire. And leave not north, Giorgio. Lift your beakers and crop us a soul. Get cringles abroad in the snow. Fiery crock, wads. And wads.

Wads. Aha. He's he. Oh, ho. You like it, Eddie? It'll go beautifully with that cracked mirror. OK, here's the soap. And Eddie, while I'm doing it, how about you Christmasing up the joint a little bit there?

Here, hang up these reeds. Well, hang on. Well, leave one dangle over each table. Have a good idea. Then after he's cut to my third eating, that's what he can just lay to read right on his chest.