Original subtitles

Morning, beloved.

Look what I've brought you.

A present.

A present for me?

Pretty flowers for a pretty lady.

They've got no eggs on them.

Of course they ain't got no eggs on them. On account that they was run over

farmer from his horse and cart.

It's the thought that counts, isn't it? No, thank you.

Then I'm telling you, it was seen as though I brung you these pretty flowers.

How about you invite me inside for a sausage or a fruit?

I'm very sorry, Walter, but I ain't stopping.

I heard that the fair and Madame Fricarty might be there.

Who's Madame Fricarty when she's adult?

Excuse me, young sir, but I wonder whether you could prepare a poor old

scarecrow a copper or two for him to buy some of that little cat.

Why should I? Because if you don't, I'll knock your titchy block off your

shoulders. You and whose army?

Oh! Well, I'll be bummed, Swizzles.

What's that there ginormous birdie doing sitting up on top of that there

steeple? Must be one of them they are, but probably.

Well, I don't see anything.

Oh, it's you, Mr. Dunedin and Cromantor.

They wouldn't have you doing here. I might very well ask you the same

Wirtle Gummidge. You're supposed to be on duty in Canana's cornfield. Oh, but I

were, Mr.

Cromantor. I were. And while I was guarding them there, corny cobs, a huge

of locusts come at me over the edge.

Big black idiot things they were, Mrs.

O 'Neill and Crow Mensa. And they were making horrible noises all the while.

Going... Shut up, Wurzel. I suspect the reason you're at the fair and not on

duty has less to do with locusts and more to do with that pink sugary

on your face.

My, my, my.

That candy floss, your detectiveness.

I wonder how that got to be there. You were assigned a job this morning,

And I intend to see that you do it.

I see

a

tall, dark stranger.

A man who has acquired great wealth. A prince?

He reaches across the water.

An old wooden chest.

What's in it? I cannot tell. It is locked.

But wait.

The lid is opening?

Yes. Gold!

Gold? Oh, he must be loaded to the gunwale.

Well, he can't sit around here all day. I'm going to put myself in circulation.

Just a minute.

Yes? You have forgotten something.

Two dollars.

What a privilege of looking into the future.

Two dollars?

I don't have two dollars. And even if I did, I wouldn't give them to you. It is

most unwise to abuse the services of Madame Forcarty.

You've told me what I want to know now. If you'd have had any sense, you would

have asked for the money first.

Ladies and gentlemen, and meet New Zealand's most notorious pirate and

of the high seas, Polly Hayes. A superb life -size waxwork model in an authentic

reconstruction of the very... prison cell in which he spent his ten -year

sentence for manslaughter and other crimes against humanity.

Bully Hayes, ladies and gentlemen.

Bully by name, bully by nature. A man feared and loathed from North Cape to

Bluff, known variously as the Terror of the Tasman, the Barrytown Bootlegger,

and Prince of Codfish Island. Prince? Did you say Prince? Yes, ma 'am. Prince

Codfish Island, where he based his trade in illicit whiskey.

Only 30 cents to meet him face to face.

Oh, not a trince. He just already smelly convict.

I don't think I've ever seen anything quite so ugly since I last slapped eyes

Wurzel Gummidge.

Oh, what's this?

Bullies, jailed, abduction, manslaughter, trade slaving.

That way the cook's a lousy little bard.

I beg your pardon?

Sorry, miss.

I've been locked up in here so long on exhibit, I lost touch with the finer

of gentlefolks.

They treats me like scum in here.

Scum is what you is. You can say that, but how many convicts does you know who

has a horde of gold bullion waiting for them when they gets out?

Four hundred of them, size of a loaf of bread. I acquired them from the captain

of a Dutch brigantine in high seas off the coast of Borneo. Most unwilling he

was to part with them until I put me chopper through his throat.

Where might these gold bars be now?

I buried them on a small island just off the coast of... Why should I

tell you that?

I could go and dig them up and bring them back to you.

Before a young brass bounder has still got eight feet in his hair, no, if

there's any gold to be got, I'll do the getting.

I've got a much better suggestion for you, ma 'am.

Why don't you get yourself up on that chair and fetch me down the key ring

the top of yonder cabinet, and I, for my part, will consider cutting you in on

half shares.

When I gets these shackles off me feet.

Off you?

200 bright, shiny gold bars.

You'll be able to live like a queen.

Come on, Mark.

I never thought I would have to do this, Wurzel.

But your chronic truancy of late leaves me with no other option.

Needless to say, I am bitterly disappointed in you.

I'm very sorry you're holding this.

But it won't happen again. Really, it won't.

I know it won't happen again because I am taking steps to ensure that it

doesn't. Yes, I get your meaning, you bondage.

What happens if it comes on to rain and I need a bit of shelter?

Or if I get hungry and want a cup of tea and a slice of cake?

And I can't go and see me Aunt Sally, can I, if I'm tied up in this pesky

all day?

Hmm.

Wurzel, what sort of creature are you?

I'm a scarecrow creature, your creative name.

And what do scarecrows do?

She knows very well what they does, Mr. Crowman.

Answer the question.

Well, they scared crows, of course.

And do they have any business in skiving off indoors at the first sight of a

drop of rain?

Or partaking of tea and cake? Or, for that matter, trailing around after

Aunt Sally's?

No, you're right.

I rest my case.

Come along, Mom.

You're as slow as a sand barge in a car.

But fast as you can ain't fast enough.

I've got important business.

My precious shoes.

They're not used to all bling over one part.

Take them off.

Take them off?

If I took them off, I'd be in my bare feet, sis.

Never go around in bare feet on account it chips the paint on my toes.

Sorry, I don't really like them.

I've had enough of your airs and graces for one day. I intend to get out to that

island before the sun is over the yard on me.

So come on.

We've got to get help.

You stay here and watch where they go. I'll go get someone.

Russell, quick, it's an emergency.

Emergency or not, I ain't budging. And the reason I ain't budging is because I

can't budge. And the reason I can't budge is because His Majesty the Crow

has tied me to this here post.

Or to put it another way, it's all tied up right now.

Russell, I'm telling you, it's in danger.

Well, she'll just have to stay in danger, won't she? Because there ain't

I can do about it.

Kidnapped? She's been taken out to sea by a horrible man with a big chin.

Me intended.

Kidnapped by a big chick.

If I take 12 paces towards the old army barracks by the shore...

8,

9, 10, 11, 12!

Or was it 15?

No, no, no, no. I'm pretty sure it was 12.

I'll tell you what.

I'll take one more for good measure.

You don't even know.

Well, I would have writ it down.

Only somebody might have stolen it and got to the booty first.

And besides, I can't write.

You ignorant, illiterate fool.

How is it worth to find the gold if you can't even remember where it is?

I've never heard of anything so stupid in all my life.

Well, it was a hundred years ago.

Things change in a hundred years.

And besides, I'm pretty sure that it's here.

Salt's intuition, if you like, but I can feel it in me bones.

The goal is there, six foot under the sand.

I thought you were going to get

help. I did. I brought Werther. Oh, well done. Let's put out the fire with

petrol.

Petrol? You never said nothing about no...

Being smart.

All right then, Miss. Be smart. It depends if you're so smart.

Where's my Aunt Sally?

He took her out to the island.

There's a dinghy down by the water we can use. A dinghy where?

got another two foot to go.

Well, you'll come and dig then. It ain't gentlemanly to let a lady do all the

work.

I'd like to. I really would, ma 'am, but my back.

See, I've been forbidden all this bending and heaving.

Wait a minute. I just remembered.

It wasn't 12 paces towards the harmy barracks.

It was 20 paces towards Point George.

and it's about pointing that ginormous bangstick at.

Weasel, this minute you can't tell him.

Oh, easy, easy. Now, listen here, you great big lumber. You bring me the Aunt

Sally back.

You've got no right to have taken her in the first place.

Is that so?

Yes, it is.

Weasel, he's got a gun.

Who cares? I ain't scared of no gun.

Nor him, what's old is it?

Now, look here, chubby chops.

What have you done with my Aunt Sally?

Thank you very much, Wurzel Gummidge. Yes, well, don't you worry your pretty

little head about nothing no more, Aunt Sally, because I'll have you rescued off

this here island quicker than a duck can shake his watsies. You do no such

thing, bully!

Yes, Ma.

Why did you take the note of insubordination?

That's right, Titchy. You tell him. And if it comes to that, I reckon I ain't

going to do no more digging neither.

Now, it's mutiny, is it?

You can call it what you like, but I ain't shoveling no more sand for nobody.

What did you say, Wurzel Gummidge? Same goes for you too, Aunt Sally. If you

want any more old stuff, you can dig them yourself.

There's only one thing for it, ma 'am. When he has a mutiny, you have to sort

out the ringleader and make an example of it.

Now, if you don't get back to work in three seconds, I'm going to spread your

brains all over this beach.

He ain't got no brain.

She's right there, Mr. Bunny, Bunny, Bunny.

There ain't nothing up here before the alternate.

Found something? What is it?

I don't find a wooden chest.

A wooden chest?

Go.

Ain't you got your three yet?

I thought three come after five.

Vintage Hockanoi.

What's Hockanoi?

High -grade whiskey, lass.

Brewed in the Hockanoi hills by me old mate Dougal MacDonald. Never mind about

that. What about the gold?

Ah, well, that's an interesting question, ma 'am. It seems to me that

trunk, which was meant to be sent to Arthur, has got muddled up with my trunk

containing the gold bullion.

Let's hop off this and see how it tastes.

I could do with a drop of cork to cool myself.

Perhaps I could ask him if he'd borrow me a sip.

I wouldn't. If you go anywhere near his bottles, he gets savage.

We're just waiting till he falls asleep.

And with any luck, we can row home.

Well, that's the plan, is it? Yeah, right. While we're waiting, Old Worth

have himself a bit of a nap.

And you kiddies wake me up as soon as you're ready to go, all right?

If I start soaring, whack me over the head. That usually does the trick.

Oh, then one, two, three, up.

Which way is this?

Oh, one.

Dear, what are we taking him for? We're going to put him back where he belongs.

Come on, Weasel. Here, wait a minute. What about my intended?

We're leaving her. It's no more than she deserves after the way she treated us.

But she's my intended. I can't leave my intended on a desert island to be eaten

up by canning balls.

I should say not indeed.

It tended to happen. Certainly, Aunt Sally. Come along. You get up in the

Come on, Titches. Help me give the boat a big push into the sea.

Three, five, four, three, three, five, four.

Roll up, roll up and see the original waxwork bully, Hayes. The terror of the

dance. The brave man, Bootlegger, and Prince of Codfish House.

He mysteriously disappeared, but I'm pleased to say he's back again with us

ladies and gentlemen.

Larger than life and twice as ugly.

Only 30 cents to meet him face to face.

Not so high and mighty now, is you?

Not now that you're chained up like a heifer lump in a circus.

Please, Collie.

I'm not feeling very well after our jollification last night.

I ain't surprised you struggled, old speed dog.

And now you ain't got that there bang stick, no one's frightened of you no

so...

Oh, hello.

It's you, Mrs.

Zuneid and Crowman, sir. I bet you're wondering why old Wurzel ain't out of

there at Corny Cobfield, that where you sent me. Well, it's like this you...

Silence!

I'm ever so sorry, Your Highness, on an horrible pirate kicking at me and me own

self. Be quiet, Wurzel. I've heard enough of your stories.

But it's true, Your Eminence.

Wurzel, damn it! Yes, sir.

Bye.