Santa Claus Is Kidnapped By The Squeebbubli

The story of Jonathan Thomas and his Christmas on the moon. This is the story of a wee little boy who has just turned six. And his name is Jonathan Thomas. And what happened to him is not just fiddle sticks.

For right here is where we make the promise. It could have happened to you if you were not you, but instead were Jonathan Thomas, who set his prayers every night upstairs and jumped in to bed clear up to his head and snuggled and juggled and ruggled and juggled, because Christmas was not very far off, and was as good as he could

as all other boys would if Christmas were coming for soon, or if he was bad and not merry and glad, his dad would not like such a lad and be sad, and even a bit mad and not read fairy tales in his room, where the moon disgustingly listened to his weeping and wails,

but here is the story, and it's true don't you worry, Because remember, I made you the promise. It's as true as true blue and could have happened to you. If it hadn't happened to Jonathan Thomas, you see, the big grandfather clock in the hall had just struck eight.

And Jonathan Thomas had had his bath and set his prayers and kissed mummy and Nan and then taken the hand of his dad and up the stairs they went. One, two, button, you shoot, three, four, shut the door.

until they wear it to where you say eleven, twelve the kitchen shell and then down the hall and in the room and whisking the bed. Ah-ha-ha-ha. Now-ha-ha-ha-ha. Now, couple of covers up so you won't catch the sneezeles.