Christmas in Camp

Hey! What's up, brother? Boy, it's one more Christmas day around the old campfire. I think Curly!

Hello! Tells us a funny story with you. Right, you are, mate. Have you heard that story about the wooden whistle? The wooden whistle? The wooden whistle. No, what about it? Right, uh, what a whistle.

Oh! Oh! Oh, here's another one. What's that? Ever heard the little story about the man who swallowed a spoon while he was having his breakfast? No, what about it? Don't you know what's the matter with him?

No! Why, he can't? Sir! Yeah, but another joke, I'll tell you what Harry. You think the boy's a little song. Goate it around the campfire on a Christmas day. A band of British soldiers in a land so far away.

A longing for their loved ones in a dear homeland. To wish them Merry Christmas and take them by the hand. I think I'm my friend if it's all the new quality of the world. I say cookie, it's any time for the rooty yet.

I've got an awful pain in my spinning. Worked along my head. It's worth waiting for, I give you my word. Rose, turkey and slums up. No, let me want a mixture. Do eat them both together.

No, you fool, separate of course. You're not so much of your fool, old doughnut. I was making the oven. Come on, sir. If you go killing the cook, we shall get an Christmas dinner. All right, then.

Our fairies live till we escort the turkey. But I say, can't somebody do something? This year's as lively as a bloomin' fuel. I'll tell you what, Curly. You dance the cell of let's. See, and I'll play you at a company.