All language subtitles for Melody.Time.1948.iNTERNAL.DVDRip.XViD-MULTiPLY

Melody Time

Melody Time

Melody Time

It's time to swing along

To a happy land of sound

Where love is the thing

Melody Time

It's time for sweet romance

Won't you give your heart a chance

To join in and sing?

Take a tip from the birds
You don't need words

For music has charm

It's the language of love

When your love's in your arms

Rhythm and rhyme

Sure help a heart along

So come on and sing a song

It's Melody Time

It's Melody Time

It's Melody Time,
time to hitch your wagon to a song,

as a song is the one and only thing

that will take you to the land
where music is king.

So join in the fun.
There's something here for everyone.

You'll find rhythm, romance,
reason, rhyme,

something ridiculous.
Something sublime!

You can't go wrong if you swing along
Come to the jubilee

It's Melody Time

The memory of wintertime long ago,

of clear, crisp air
and new-fallen snow,

of frost on a windowpane,
of sleigh-bells heard from the lane.

In this wonderland,
romance is the theme,

for this is the story
of love's young dream.

Don't you kind of love December

When the merry snowbells chime?

We're together

Once upon a wintertime

Every single snowflake falling

Plays a jingle down your spine

Lovely weather

Once upon a wintertime

On the frozen pond,
folks are swaying

Sweetheart, who cares?

We'll have more fun sleighing

Behind two chestnut mares

When we say,
''Goodbye, December, ''

Merry bells no longer chime

We'll remember

Once upon a wintertime

Don't you kind of love December

When the merry snowbells chime?

We're together
Once upon a wintertime

Every single snowflake falling

Plays a jingle down your spine

Here we are together, lovely weather
Once upon a wintertime

Jingle bells, jingle all the way

On the frozen pond,
folks are swaying

Sweetheart, who cares?

We'll have more sleighing

Behind two chestnut mares

When we say, ''Goodbye, December, ''

Merry bells no longer chime

We'll remember
Once upon a wintertime

Remember December
Once upon a wintertime

On the frozen pond,
folks are swaying

Sweetheart, who cares?

We'll have more fun sleighing

Behind two chestnut mares

When we say, "Goodbye, December,"

Merry bells no longer chime

We'll remember

Once upon a wintertime

Freddy Martin,
an admirer of the classics,

inspired by Rimsky-Korsakov's
Flight of the Bumble Bee,

interprets this fantasy
in his unique style.

In a furious flight,
a confused character tries to escape

from the hectic harmony
of an instrumental nightmare.

In American folklore, mighty men have
left the symbols of their greatness.

There was Paul Bunyan's axe.

John Henry's hammer.

Davy Crockett's rifle.

Then, unexpectedly,
one comes upon a tinpot hat,

a bag of appleseed and a holy book.

These are the symbols
of one of the mightiest men of all,

John Chapman, a real-life pioneer.

However, reality has given way
to legend.

Today, we know him simply
as Johnny Appleseed.

This is his story, told by
an old settler who knew Johnny well.

Listen.

Every time I see an apple-blossom
sky, I think of Johnny Appleseed.

Them clouds up there
ain't really clouds at all, no, sir!

There wouldn't be no apple-blossom
sky if it weren't for...

But now, hold on here.
I'd better start at the beginning.

Johnny lived on a farm
near Pittsburgh.

The year was 1 806 or there around.

You'd say Johnny Appleseed
never would make a pioneer,

he was such a scrawny little fellow.

That didn't faze Johnny.

He had his apple trees, the
morning sun and the evening breeze.

The Lord is good to me

So I thank the Lord
For giving me the things I need

The sun and rain and apple seed

Yes, he's been good to me

I owe the Lord so much
For everything I see

If it weren't for him
There'd be no apples on this limb

He's been good to me

Here am I 'neath the blue sky
Doing as I please

Singing with my feathered friends

Humming with the bees

I wake up every day
As happy as can be

Because, with his care,
My apple trees will still be there

The Lord is good to me

Working, singing, carefree and gay,
that's how Johnny spent each day,

attending to his apple trees.

But, lately,Johnny would feel
a stir in the air.

The rumbling, rolling beat
of restless men with restless feet.

Get on a wagon rolling west
Out to the great unknown

Get on a wagon rolling west
Or you'll be left alone

We've made a home before
We're starting now again

We ain't a feared of man or beast
We're strong and hardy men

So, get on a wagon rolling west
Seeking a land that's new

So, get on a wagon rolling west
There's plenty of room for you

Get on a wagon rolling west
Out to the great unknown

Get on a wagon rolling west
Or you'll be left alone

The rivers may be wide
The mountains may be tall

But nothing stops the pioneer
We're trailblazers all

Get on a wagon rolling west
Out to the great unknown,,,

Get on a wagon rolling west

Or you'll be left alone

Poor Johnny. He weren't no pioneer
and he knowed it.

It was all just pretend.

Those going west to build this nation
made picking apples look useless.

Well, that's when a miracle happened.

- What's holding you?...
- ..Says a voice.

Go on. Go on out west
if that's your choice.

Well, it was an angel,
Johnny's own private guardian angel.

He looks mighty queer to you and me,

but that's just the way
John figured he'd be.

Well, speak up, boy.
Don't stand there gawking.

- Unlock your jaw and get talking.
- Yes, sir!

Why don't I go west?

I ain't got the muscle
or the breadth of chest.

There it's the strong men who survive
and I'm the puniest fella alive.

Shame to you,Johnny!

You've got faith, courage
and a level head.

But shucks. You see, sir,
all I know is apple trees.

What's wrong with apples, if you
please? Ain't they the finest fruit?

Shoot, man! They take the cake!

Just think of all the things
that apples make.

There's apple pickles...

Tasty apple tarts, apple pastry,
apple dumplings

- Not to mention,,,
-Apple sass?

Apple fritters light as thistle

And for folks to wet their whistle
Tangy apple cider

- Stew, fry, boil, bake 'em
-Apple pie and apple cake 'em

You can cook them any way

Apple this, apple that
Recipes to fill your hat

I could carry on like this all day

So pack your stuff and get going
Get them apple trees growing

There's a lot of work out there
to do

There's a lot of work to do

Yes, sir! I mean, no, sir.

You see, sir, I ain't got none
of the things I'll need out there.

You ain't got...?

Boy, I'm ashamed of you! You've got
the stuff to see you through.

You've got the seeds you're needing,
and for good reading,

there ain't nothing finer
than your book

Here's a handy bonnet,
even got a handle on it.

Turn it upside down
and you can cook

So, come on, get going
Get them apple trees growing

There's a lot of work out there
to do

There's a lot of work to do!

Well, that's how it all began.

That's how Johnny, all alone,
set out to meet the great unknown.

It was a mighty big, fierce place
for a man to face.

A little man, and all alone,

without no knife, without no gun.

Though the forest is dark and wide,

with fearsome critters on every side,

Johnny just kept walking on.

He walked until he found
a spot of open ground

with fertile soil and warm breeze,
a likely place for apple trees.

The varmints couldn't know
if John was friend or foe.

Some took off in sudden flight.

And some got set to claw and bite.

If Johnny saw them, he paid no heed,
just got busy planting apple seed.

Varmints came from everywhere
to watch him digging there.

Didn't like what they were seeing,
didn't trust no human being.

That ornery human had to go.
But who was going to tell him so?

Not a soul could answer that till
there came a black and white cat.

He weren't too bright
but he didn't care.

He knowed he had a certain air
about him.

Well, sir, that done it.

The critters had never seen that,
the likes of a human liking that cat.

Why, this little man had busted
every precedent.

He was the very first to come
without no knife, without no gun.

And so it was, from that time on,
every varmint was a friend to John.

They surely was.

The Lord is good to me

And so I thank the Lord
For giving me the things I need

The sun and rain and apple seed
Yes, he is good to me

As time went by,
Johnny kept planting his apple trees

and making friends everywhere.

His best friends were the pioneers,
for he was planting more than trees.

He was planting
his own boundless faith and courage.

That gave folks new heart,
new hope in the job they had to do.

As more pioneers came
to push back the forest,

the kindly deeds
of Johnny Appleseed

spread throughout the land.

More than once, with a good jubilee,

folks would honour
Johnny Appleseed

and the fruit of the apple tree.

Come out to the right of the ring.
Inside arch.

Ain't gonna rain, got no thunder.

First and third, follow swing.
Come out of the ring.

I'll swing yours and you swing mine.
I'll swing my girl.

Go straight to a do-si-do
kicking out dough.

A little bit of roll, home we go.

If John was passing, he'd mosey over
and look in on the doings.

It tickled him how the fruit of
his labours brought folks together.

Now, duck for the apple.

Thank you, son. Apple core!

Bite that apple to the core.

Ready now.
Men left with the left hand.

Back to your partner

Whirl them right, whirl them wrong,
right then left. Apple core!

Look at the pretty girl's eye
once more.

Come and get it! The table's set!

It's all waiting to be ate.
Come and get it!

- Apple pickle.
- Mighty tasty.

- Apple butter.
- Apple pastry.

- Apple dumplings.
- Like some apple sass?

Johnny brought folks
a heap of happiness.

He wasn't looking for thanks.
Didn't have time for it.

He knowed a man can't rest

if he aims to plant the wilderness
in apple trees.

So for more than 40 years,John
walked and planted that old frontier.

40 years of walking and planting.

In that space of two score year,

this little man throwed his shadow
clear across the land,

across 1 00,000 miles square.

In that shadow everywhere,
he left his blessings three.

God and faith

And the apple tree

For sleeping,
you take the cake. Get up.

- We've a long trip to make.
- Why, Mr Angel, howdy do?

- I'm fine. And how be you?
- I'm fine. Just feeling...

Who's that, sleeping in the dusk?

- That's just your mortal husk.
- My husk?

You mean to say I'm...
I'm passed away?

I just can't go!
Got crops to harvest, seeds to sow.

Now, now, now, hold on, boy!

Down here on earth,
your work is through.

But yonder, well,
we need you,Johnny.

Yep, we sure do.

You think we have
most all we please, but we ain't.

We're kind of short on apple trees.

Well, I swan!

I didn't know. What are we waiting
for? Come on, let's go!

We're wasting time, let's get going
Get them apple trees growing

There's a lot of work up there to do

There's a lot of work to do!

Now you know why,
whenever I see that certain sky,

I think of little John.

If you recall, them clouds
ain't really clouds at all.

They're apple blossoms if you please

from John's heavenly orchard
of apple trees.

And some day
there'll be apples there

For everyone in the world to share

The Lord is good to me!

There's drama, excitement
and harmony for three

in this story of adventure
on the sea.

Featured in this epic
is a ship of proud design.

It's not this ocean liner,
we take a different line.

With a huff, a puff, a chug-chug-chug
and a perky little hoot,

we introduce our hero,
the tugboat, Little Toot.

Little Toot was just a tug
A happy harbour tug

He came from a line
of tugboats fine and brave

But it seems that Little Toot
Simply didn't give a hoot

Though he tried to be good
He never could behave

Heave-ho, my lad!
I'm a big toot just like my dad

Pull big boats with a yo-heave-ho
And away we go

Chug-a-chug-chug-chug

He made the ocean liners wait
While he made a figure 8

With the greatest of ease
He cut through the seas

He went too far one day
He slid in Big Toot's way

And it wasn't a joke
For it nearly broke Big Toot's pride

Won't you ever grow up, Little Toot?

Won't you ever grow up, Little Toot?

When there's work to be done
All you think of is fun

Won't you ever grow up, Little Toot?

Little Toot had quite a scare

He decided then and there

That he'd try to be good
As good as he could be

So when his dad came puffing slow

With a mighty ship in tow

Little Toot went to help him
Take it out to sea

Heave-ho, my lad!
I'm a big toot just like my dad

Push big boats with a yo-heave-ho!
And away we go!

Chug-a-chug-chug-chug

Won't you ever grow up, Little Toot?

Won't you ever grow up, Little Toot?

When you get into trouble

You get into it double

Won't you ever grow up, Little Toot?

What a shame, what a shame

You've disgraced your father's name

Won't you ever grow up

Little Toot?

1 2 MILE LIMIT

Bad boy!

Shame!

Too bad!

He was drifting all around
When a storm came crashing down

In the billowing sea he tossed

He was filled with fear
He knew the rocks were near

With the waves in pursuit
Little Toot knew all was lost

Then he saw a rocket's flare
Bursting in the air

And he suddenly knew
That he must do or die

A ship was in distress
As he puffed an SOS

He raced to the rescue
Of the ship nearby

Try!

Do or die!

It seems you've grown up, Little Toot
Toot toot!

You're a brave
You're a brave Little Toot

Can't you hear that cheering crowd?
You have made your daddy proud

You are now a big toot, Little Toot

Yes, you're now
a great big toot, Little Toot!

There's poetry in trees.
Then one day a poet found it.

Then a music master
wove around it a melody.

An artist touched it, gave it form
in colours rich and warm.

Now we bring to you these three,
poem, picture, melody.

A simple tribute to a tree.

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree

A tree whose hungry mouth
is pressed

Against the earth 's
sweet flowing breast

A tree that looks at God all day

And lifts her leafy arms to pray

A tree that may in summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair

Upon whose bosom snow has lain

Who intimately lives with rain

Poems are made

By fools like me

But only God

Can make a tree

With the intoxicating rhythm
of the samba,

we serve up a musical cocktail
with true Latin American flavour.

If three boisterous
birds of a feather

fall under the influence
of this tropical tempo,

don't blame them,
blame it on the rhythm of the samba.

If your spirits have hit a new low

And they long to hit a new high

One little musical cocktail

Will lift them to the sky

Mix a jigger of rhythm

With the strain of a few guitars

Add a dash of the samba

And a few melodious bars

And then,,,

And then,,,

You take a spark of bossa

One fandero

Take a wiggle

You've got the fascinating rhythm
of the samba

And if guitars are strumming
Birds are humming

Drums are drumming
Then blame it on the samba

It's the beat you cling to
The type of song you sing to

The kind of thing you swing to
With the beat in your feet

When you're bouncing
to the beat you're reeling

With the carioca feeling

But if you want to hit the ceiling
Here is all you have to do

You take a spark of bossa

One fandero

Take a wiggle

You've got the fascinating rhythm
of the samba

Here's a tall tale, just the way
the old timers used to tell them.

Pecos Bill was the roughest, toughest
shootingest cowpoke that ever lived.

Any story about Pecos
is bound to be strong medicine.

Maybe it's best
to sashay into it gently.

Shades of night are falling

As the wind begins to sigh

And the world is silhouetted

Against the sky

Blue shadows on the trail

Blue moon shining through the trees

And the plaintive wail
from the distance

Comes a-drifting

On the evening breeze

Move along, blue shadows!

Move along!

Soon the dawn will come

And you'll be on your way

But until the darkness
sheds its veil

There'll be blue shadows

On the trail

Move along, blue shadows

Move along

Move along

Soon the dawn will come

And you'll be on your way

On your way

But until the darkness
sheds its veil

There'll be blue shadows

On the trail

Shadows on the trail

Uncle Roy, what makes the wolves
howl like that?

Wolves? Those are coyotes.

Yes, Bobby's right.
They howl when the moon is bright.

- Why?
- That's quite a story.

- Cowboys in it?
- Yes, sirree.

- Indians, too?
- Could be two or three.

Mostly this story's about Pecos Bill.

Pecos Bill? Who's he?

- Never heard of Pecos Bill?
- Imagine!

I thought everybody knows Pecos.

Bill was the world's
greatest buckaroo.

The roughest, toughest critter
Never was a quitter

Cos he never had no fear
for man or beast

Pecos Bill was...

Easy, Trigger,
I won't forget his horse, Widowmaker.

- Widowmaker?
- That's a funny name.

That horse earned it, just the same.

- A killer.
- Dynamite.

Widowmaker was Bill's best pal.

Until along came
that beautiful prairie gal.

- Shucks, a woman!
- But what a woman.

She was fresh as the dew

On a prairie rose

A true thoroughbred

From her head to her toes

That there was Slue Foot Sue

Sweet Sue

I'd rather hear about the coyotes.

You started to say...

Why coyotes howl at the moon
that way?

You're right. It all fits together.
You can't tell one without the other.

The story of Bill and that gal
is the story of why coyotes howl.

I'm getting to the details now.

Here on the map of the old US,

completely surrounded by wilderness,
lies Texas.

- There are some other states.
- Like Wyoming.

- Milwaukee.
- Long Island South.

Down Texas way, a river flows.
Where it comes from nobody knows.

Where it's going, don't no one care.
Just glad it's leaving there.

- The Pecos River.
- Pure alkali.

- Naturally mean water.
- The buzzards won't even touch it.

Into this fertile garden spot
came a prairie cart.

There was Ma and Pa and 1 6 brats,

- four hound dogs.
- And a couple of cats.

- Going west looking for elbow room.
- Sure could use some of the same.

Crossing the river bed,
something fell out on to his head.

They didn't even know he was gone.

The wagon just kept rolling along.

It was Bill, poor little critter.

Homeless as a poker chip.

Along came night and a prairie moon

Old Ma Coyote a-hurrying home

She was due for a shock
at her journey's end

The stork had delivered a dividend

- One more than usual!
- It had never happened before.

Probably one of them
new-fangled models.

- Bill looked up and grinned
- Shucks!

Ma 's old heart just caved in

Bill saw that he needn't fear
He'd staked himself a claim here

Headed straight for the chuck wagon.

Bill was hungrier than a woodpecker
with a headache.

It followed as natural fact

that Bill growed up
with that coyote pack.

He soon became the top hand
in a way they all could understand.

Little Bill couldn't rest
till he'd proved himself the best.

He studied other varmints, too,
then showed them a trick or two.

Outloped the antelope.

Outjumped the jackrabbit.

Bill even outhissed
the rattlesnake.

Then one day

Across the burning sand

A stranger came

To the Pecos land

The usual committee
Was there today

To welcome their guest

In the usual way

Fifty to one weren't no fair fight,

but one plus Bill
made it just about right.

Well, it was the beginning
of a beautiful friendship.

They stuck together like warts
on a toad, like birds of a feather.

When Bill growed up, of course,

he chose a career to suit him
and his horse.

Yep, Bill became
a rootin', tootin' cowboy.

Pecos Bill was quite a cowboy
down in Texas

The western superman,
to say the least

The roughest, toughest critter
Never was a quitter

Cos he never had no fear
of man nor beast

So yippee aye-ay, aye-ay!
Yippee aye-o!

For the toughest critter
west of the Alamo

So yippee aye-ay!

Yippee aye-o!

Once, a drought spread
all over Texas,

so to sunny Californy he did go.

Though the gag is corny
He brought rain from Californy

That's the way we got
the Gulf of Mexico

So yippee aye-ay aye-ay!
Yippee aye-yo!

For the toughest critter
west of the Alamo

Once a band of rustlers
stole a herd of cattle

but they didn't know it was Bill's.

When he caught them villains,
Pecos knocked out all their fillings.

That's why there's gold
in them hills.

So yippee aye-ay!
Yippee aye-o!

For the toughest critter
west of the Alamo

Pecos lost his way

- While travelling on the desert
- Water!

It was 90 miles
across the burning sand

Water!

He knew he'd never reach the border

- Water!
- If he didn't get some water

Water!

So he got a stick
and dug the Rio Grande

While a tribe of painted Indians
did a war dance

Pecos started shooting up
their little game

He gave them such a shake-up
They jumped out from their make-up

That's how the Painted Desert
got its name

So yippee aye-ay aye-o!

For the toughest critter
west of the Alamo

Reclining on a cloud high over Texas,

with his gun,
he made the stars evaporate.

He saw the stars declining,
so he left one brightly shining

as the emblem
of the lone star Texas state.

So yippee aye-ay, aye-ay!
Yippee aye-o!

Them was happy days
for Bill and that horse.

Looked like nothing
could come between them.

Then it happened.

Bill was happy that day,
killing time in his carefree way,

inventing the one-man rodeo
and butting heads with the buffalo.

Poor Bill, happy as a hog
in a turnip patch and then,

Old Man Fate started dealing
from the bottom of the deck.

Down the stream came Slue Foot Sue,
all her charms revealed to view.

Like something from a dream,
the first woman Bill's ever seen.

She was strange.

- Unusual.
- Yeah, but powerfully stimulating.

Like a slug of rye
on an empty stomach.

Give him a right peculiar feeling,
set his senses reeling,

with a pounding inside his ears
like the galloping of steers.

His chest was churning

His brain was burning with a fire
that could only be cooled...

In the beckoning depths
Of two blue limpid pools

Yep, l'amour had come to Pecos Bill.

Widowmaker was puzzled.
Looked like trouble to him.

He sure was right.

Bill was busy inventing courting,
western style.

He arranged for the moon

To rise just right

And flood the land

With a silvery light

Ordered the stars

In heaven above

To form a token

Of undying love

Then across the sky

In words of fire

Bill told sweet Sue

Of his own heart's desire

Sweet Sue

I love you

Sue named the wedding day
but Bill had a price to pay.

Sue wanted a bustle,
the finest, of course,

and she aimed to be wedded
riding Bill's horse.

Sue got her bustle
and it was classy.

Put the finishing touch
on her chassis.

That happy blushing bride
was busting with girlish pride.

But Bill had promised her
a ride on Widowmaker.

Would that horse let Sue ride?

Here comes the answer.
Fit to be tied!

- Widowmaker was irritated.
- But that didn't bother Sue.

She walked up to his side,
touched his bristling hide.

With a flick of her bustle, Sue
was aboard and sat for the tussle.

The proceedings commenced
forthwith.

No doubt about it, that Sue
was a regular female buckaroo.

And then... that bustle.

Underneath the frills and flounces,
Sue developed plenty of bounces.

More than she could handle.

Then Sue took off
like a Roman candle.

That devilish contraption
of steel and wire

bounced the poor girl
higher and higher.

It was plain to the multitude
that Sue was gaining altitude.

Looked like she was a goner.

But no! A ray of hope.

Look! Bill and his trusty rope.

He'd darned soon put a stop to this.

Shucks. Bill was never known to miss.

Bill was calm, confident.
He built his loop with careless ease.

He judged his distance,
tested the breeze.

Then a whirl and a twirl and
a twist of the wrist, he let her go!

But the champion missed!

How it come to happen,
nobody could figure out.

She was off again
on her heavenly flight.

Up she went, clean out of sight.

Till, far into space,
this unfortunate maid

finally come to the moon,
and that's where she stayed.

In the state of Texas, USA, life
still goes on in the same old way.

The Pecos River still flows on, but
the greatest cowboy on earth is gone.

Yeah, Bill went back to the coyotes,
but he never forgot Sue.

Every night when the moon was high,

he'd lift his voice
in a mournful cry,

bewailing the fate of his lady fair,

his long-lost love
in the sky up there.

So painful was his grief to see, the
varmints joined in out of sympathy.

That's how come, to this very day,
coyotes howl at the moon that way.

Move along, blue shadows

Move along

Move along

Soon the dawn will come

And you'll be on your way

On your way

But until the darkness
sheds its veil

There'll be blue shadows

On the trail

Shadows on the trail