| ALL | Little Billy Penton, the foundling of our hearts, Little Billy Penton, known throughout these parts, Little Billy Penton, his spirit is unbeaten, Amazing when you think about How other people treat 'en. Now here's a tale we'll tell you, Bout Little Billy's Christmas, A tale stogged full of woe and mirth For Mister and for Missus, For boys and girls of any year A yarn that spins a spell It tells of Christmas wonders, And it warns of Christmas hell. |
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| NARRATOR | It was the day before Christmas in Stittsville, Bone Bay, Newfoundland, but you never
would have known it. The town lay under a gray shroud of coke smoked snow, a sloppy muck
that would suck up the light, so there was little call for bulbs or ornaments or candles of
any kind -even 'round Christmas. What would be the point - this was the motto of Stittsville.
"What's the point?" In this perpetual gloom the people of Stittsville felt only despair.
Their debts were crushing. No matter how hard they toiled in the mine, they arrived at
each Christide further in hock to the company store. 16 tons they say ... In debt to whom? To the owner of the mine -- to the Merchant Jabez Wareham, a man as rich as Croesus, as crooked as sin, as cross as a vexed rat, as prickly as a sculpin. It was said of Jabez Wareham that if you cut out his heart you'd dull the sharpest blade. And of all the many, many things the merchant hated, there were two in particular that simply drove him to distraction. One was Christmas itself and any joy that men might dare relate to it. The other was the potboy of Wareham Manor, Little Billy Penton. Little Billy Penton, who had been found one Christmas Day upon the doorstep of the great house, and been immediately put to work. Merchant Wareham despised Little Billy for his unbreakable spirit (which was especially galling around Christmas) and for his irrepressibly cheerful dog. |
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| SCAMP | Woof woof, pant pant. | |
| NARRATOR | On this Christmas Eve Morn, there was no joy in Stittsville. Except of course for that which came, as it did so often, from Little Billy Penton's frisky antics with Scamp on the great lawn before Wareham Manor. The Merchant, half a bottle towards a good Christmas funk, was stricken with a perverse desire to stifle those sounds of mirth and merry mongrel. | |
| JABEZ | Here! Foundling boy! Who gave you the morning off ? | |
| BILLY | I've already buffed the stables, cleaned the inside of the furnace, split four cords of wood and butchered a hog. | |
| JABEZ | Pleased with ourselves, pleased with ourselves, are we ? I'll give you good
reason to be happy. Take this purse into the city. Deliver it to the Children's Workhouse. Cursed parasites. Social safety net indeed! |
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| BILLY | The workhouse is 20 miles each way sir, but I'll do it gladly. I'll be back in plenty of time for the servants' Christmas party tomorrow, for it's also my birthday, master. | |
| JABEZ | Christmas party! In Wareham Manor! Never! What gives you the idea that you have a birthday any day, let alone Christmas day, you rapscallion?! | |
| BILLY | Twas Mary, the scullery maid, told me sir. That's the day I was found here on your step. | |
| JABEZ | Christmas day is no day of birth, `tis a day of death. It was on the 25th of December month eight years ago -- aye, the very same black day that you were found -- that my only son and beloved heir, Heber, died of a brain heat and swollen sacks | |
| BILLY | Yes, master, a sad day. | |
| JABEZ | Don't patronize me, urchin boy! Do my bidding! Deliver the purse to Sister Charity, or your little pup will spend Christmas day hanging by his rear paws ... or worse -- on his way to the Christmas table ... ! Do you hear me !? | |
| BILLY | Off we go -- come on, Scamp. | |
| SCAMP | Woof, woof. | |
| JABEZ | (calling after) And for the love of God, get a receipt. Ye sorry slobs of Stittsville. You thought Heber's death had freed you from the eternal tyranny of the Wareham seed. But I shall wreak upon you the sufferings of all the ages ... and a few others as well. Ye shall never celebrate Christmas or enjoy any other statutory holidays as stipulated under the labour code... and as for Sunday shopping...! |
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| NARRATOR | And so Billy and Scamp spent a merry day walking across the frozen wasteland towards the capital city. | |
| BILLY | It's a beautiful day, even though it's a bit cold and I wish I had a jacket. I love the snow, though. It's always snowing at Christmas 'round here, isn't it, Scamp? | |
| SCAMP | Woof, woof. | |
| BILLY | Heh, look Scamp, free thinkers and trade unionists! You cut 'em off, boy, and I'll get 'em with a snowball ! | |
| SCAMP | Woof, woof, woof. | |
| BILLY | Clear out of Stittsville you no-good reds! | |
| NARRATOR | And so after many adventures Billy and Scamp entered the foreboding city. They wound their way through the winding streets towards the vast brick monolith beside the railroad tracks: the Sisters of Charity Children's Workhouse and Women's Publishing Collective, where so many orphans were given the illusion of an honest chance to work their way out of poverty. | |
| KNOCK, KNOCK | ||
| SISTER CHARITY | Who's there? | |
| BILLY | It's me, Sister, Little Billy Penton. | |
| SISTER | Go away, we're full. | |
| SCAMP | Grrrr. Grrrr. | |
| BILLY | No, I've come with Master Jabez Wareham's Christmas donation. | |
| SISTER | Give me that! | |
| BILLY | Ouch. | |
| SCAMP | Grrrr. | |
| SISTER | Why, 'tis a pip-squeak of a purse ! The merchant's not this mean, you wretched little thief ! | |
| BILLY | I am not ! | |
| SISTER | Jabez Wareham is the richest man in Newfoundland. He would never make such a miserly donation ! | |
| BILLY | You've never met him, have you ? | |
| SISTER | Insolent little beast! Get in here. We'll get to the bottom of this! | |
| BILLY | Heh, let go of me | |
| SCAMP | Grrr. Woof. Grrr. | |
| NARRATOR | And a telegram was sent to Jabez Wareham explaining the arrival of Little Billy and the miserly purse. The merchant received it in a state of extravagant inebriation, tormented further with each passing hour by the approaching anniversary of his progeny's untimely death. He laughed when he read of Little Billy's predicament. Loathing overcame the tiny organ that was his heart. And he sent back a reply containing naught but five fateful words: "To the Mines ! Season's Greetings, J.W." ! | |
| SISTER | Just as I thought. What's punishment enough for this larceny, warden? | |
| WARDEN | Couldn't you take him, sister? It doesn't seem, well, Christian, putting him in the gaols on Christmas Eve. | |
| SISTER | I'm afraid the workhouse is all full up this winter, warden. Times are hard. We have to give priority to the paying poor. Anyway, thieving boys don't mend their ways with free comfort and cheer. | |
| WARDEN | Truer words, sister ... | |
| TELEGRAM BOY | Telegram for Sister Charity. | |
| SISTER | Hmmm. (reads telegram) "To the mines." I agree with Jabez Wareham. That's the only place where the boy will find his way back to righteousness. | |
| WARDEN | But sister, Christmas in the mines ? | |
| BILLY | Let me see that ... | |
| SISTER | Yes, little Billy Penton, it's Christmas in the mines for you, my boy, and then we'll find out what you did with that money, eh, won't we ? | |
| BILLY | You don't scare me, Sister Charity | |
| SISTER | You better hurry, warden. You wouldn't want to miss the Miner's Express. It's due by here to pick up some of our misspent youth any moment | |
| WARDEN | Come along there, Billy. | |
| BILLY | Let me go | |
| SCAMP: | Woof, woof, woof. | |
| "LITTLE BILLY'S ODE" | ||
| ALL | Little Billy Penton, to the mines on Christmas went, His feet were cold, his heart was broke, his baseball cap was bent, His journey took him to the north and west of Baccalieu, And left him at the Wareham Mine with five years hard to do. The shaft was deep, the light was dim as Billy met his pit, Other foundlings there he found their stories his did fit, Snoopy, Linus, Tiny Tim, and Jonathan Thomas, too, They all descended down the mine, their Christmas penance due. Whippy I owe, whippy I ay, Christmas in the Mines. |
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| NARRATOR | 'Twas the night before Christmas, When all through the mine, All's you could 'ear, Was little chillrun crine. The picks was all stacked by the mine face with care, In t'anks that th'overseer 'is whip 'e did spare. The foundlings were packed 'bout five to the beds, And all of dem t'ought dey was out of dare 'eads. |
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| BILLY | Oh, what's the use, Scamp ? We'll never get out of this place. I feel like just going over to that ledge there and throwing myself off into space, taking my chances. Boo hoo hoo hoo ... | |
| GHOST | Come along now, Billy Boy, stop yer crine. | |
| BILLY | Wha ... who ... who are you ? | |
| GHOST | I'm the ghost of Christmas Subjunctive Conditional. | |
| BILLY | What does that mean? | |
| GHOST | That means I'm going to show you why you can't give up hope, even when it seems like everything is lost, and you feel yourself staring down a black, bottomless pit. Even when you realize that that terrifying abyss is the endless night of an existence that promises nothing but pain and suffering and the endless night of an existence that promises nothing but ... oh, I'm sorry, I've read this ... eternal pointlessness, the gradual and unstoppable ennui not only of your own body, but of the entire cosmos nraveling, an utter and complete waste of time and space, where you ... | |
| BILLY | Who did you say you were again ? | |
| GHOST | But I'm here to show you there is more to life than that, Billy Boy. I'm going to take you somewhere now. | |
| BILLY | I don't think I wanna go. Hey ! Quit shining that white light in my eyes, will ya ? Hey !! Aaaaargh ! | |
| MAGIC BELLS AND WIND | ||
| GHOST | Do you know where we are, Billy ? | |
| BILLY | Why, jumpin's, it looks like we're flying over St. John's harbour ! | |
| GHOST | That's right. | |
| BILLY | But, it can't be. There aren't any boats tied up, and the town is filled with ugly new buildings ... and everybody looks funny, like foreigners or something. There isn't even anybody fishing down there. | |
| GHOST | This unhappy life could be, Billy Boy. If you throw yourself down a mine shaft, Jabez Wareham will be blamed. | |
| BILLY | How, when it is me who does the throwing ? | |
| GHOST | He owns the mine. An inquiry will be held. Against the most powerful lawyers money can buy, the court finds him responsible. He is fined, and hates you more than ever he could hate anyone. He becomes a tormented old man, one with much money, many enemies, and a score to settle with society. He uses every last penny of his savings convincing Newfoundlanders that Confederation with Canada would be good for the country. | |
| BILLY | He would never do that ! Never in a jillion bezillion years. | |
| GHOST: | The Canadian wolf came and took everything, Billy, just like Jabez Wareham hoped. Everybody was forced to read French on product labels. Soon there were no more fish. No boats sailed into the harbour anymore. People voted over and over for leaders who raised the tax on beer and cigarettes, and took away all their services and gave all the people's money to each other and to foreign corporations. | |
| BILLY | All because I didn't come back from the mines ? | |
| GHOST | Ah, it's a Dickens of a life, Billy. Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead. But if the courses be departed from, the ends may change. Ciao, Billy Boy ! | |
| BILLY | Ghost of the Pluperfect Indicative ... ah ah ... the Modal Suppletive ... come back. I didn't understand a thing he said. Oh Scamp ...We can't let all that happen, can we, boy ? | |
| SCAMP | Woof, woof. | |
| BILLY | Come on, Scamp, think. | |
| SCAMP | Grrrrrrrr .... | |
| BILLY | There's got to be a way out of here. | |
| NARRATOR | Meanwhile, in Stittsville, folk were scraping together whatever they could to make Christmas a time of some little joy. In Wareham Manor, the merchant made merry ... | |
| JABEZ | Mary ! Bring me another rundle of port ! | |
| MARY | Master Wareham, do you not think it might be time to turn in for the night? | |
| JABEZ | And miss the marking of my son's discorporation? | |
| MARY | No. But don't you think you've marked enough ? Oh, you poor soul, you look just like him when you put your head between your knees like that. | |
| JABEZ | And what would a scullery maid know of my son Heber ? | |
| MARY | Master, the storm is wondrous mighty ... and Little Billy still has not returned from the cruel and unusual ... | |
| JABEZ | Hunh ? | |
| MARY | ... ah ... errand you sent him on. | |
| JABEZ | Nor shall he return, wench. For Little Billy will gambol no more on the lawns of Wareham Manor ! He will spend his birthday in the mines ! Ha ha ha ha ha. | |
| MARY | No boy nor man of mine shall be lost to you or your mine again, as long as I live. The truth must be told. | |
| JABEZ | You riddle me, dull maid. | |
| MARY | Heber was the love of my life. | |
| JABEZ | What are ya sayin'? | |
| MARY | And Little Billy Penton is the love child of a rich man's son and a poor girl from up the bay called Mary Penton who toiled in service for that merchant family. | |
| JABEZ | Look, I've had a fair bit of grog tonight. Could you be a wee bit more specific? | |
| MARY | Little Billy Penton is the offspring of your son, Heber. | |
| JABEZ | Duplicitous Jezebel ! | |
| MARY | Here is the letter to prove it. | |
| JABEZ | (He weeps ) Oh, junior, my junior. (He sobers) So that's what he was
saying the night he died! Ohhhh. Cripes, leave it to Heber to screw up a good thing.
Oh, pardon my French there, Mary. Little Billy ... Wareham ! My heir ... my sole heir - ... - wait a minute, that mine is a death trap ! The heir to the family fortune must be saved. |
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| MARY | What the hey, Granddad, give it a shot. | |
| JABEZ | Into the night ! The storm shall not stop me ! Off to the mines, ! I'll save Little Billy ! Oh my, Mary, this will be the greatest Christmas ever ! | |
| NARRATOR | But even as the stricken merchant swept across the frigid wastelands in his sleigh, a rebellion was brewing in the mines. | |
| 1st MINER | The latest contract offer is not good. By my account, we'll have to pay for the privilege of working the Wareham Mine. | |
| 2nd MINER | It's nae goot, I'll nae stan' for it ! | |
| 1st MINER | Hey hey hey, bubulla. Pssst. Yo. Schmo | |
| BILLY | ha, who, me ? | |
| 1st MINER | No, the dog. | |
| SCAMP | Grrrrrrr .... | |
| 2nd MINER | Pack i' in, furball. | |
| BILLY | What is it ? | |
| 1st MINER | We're walking off the job, Briss boy. Yer pitiful little whine touched us, and besides, we need a human shield. | |
| BILLY | Who's "we" ? | |
| 2nd MINER | Me and the six other dwarves, who do you think ? | |
| BILLY | Those mean old guards will never let you leave. How are you going to do it ? | |
| 1st MINER | If you have to know, busybody, we're gonna divert the guard's attention. Just keep on your toes or you might get shafted. | |
| BILLY | Roger. | |
| 1st MINER | The name's Happy. | |
| KNOCK, KNOCK | ||
| GUARD | Who goes there ? | |
| 2nd MINER | Any mummers 'llowed in ? | |
| GUARD | Hunh ? | |
| MINERS' MUMMERS' SONG (sprightly ditty) | ||
| MINERS | Ritten ditten die doh, Ritten ditten dee, Miners dressed as women, Got up to be free. Diddle diddle di doh, Diddle diddle di doh, Mummers mummer me! |
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| 2nd MINER | With a shovel in me hand Surrounded by me band, Do you think you could solve Me riddle quickly ? |
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| GUARD | Hunh? | |
| 1st MINER | Christmas time draws nigh, Away we'd like to fly ... |
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| NARRATOR | Then, in the very middle of the riddle, having scoured the whole mine, almost out of hope, Jabez Wareham burst in upon the miners' rebellion. | |
| JABEZ | Hallelujah ! I've found you, Little Billy ... out of my way, dwarf. Little Billy, I'll save you ! | |
| 1st MINER | Hang on a sec ... you're Merchant Wareham. | |
| JABEZ | Come to save my heir ! | |
| 2nd MINER | The vehicle of our distress ! The evil rich man so often encountered in stories of this type. | |
| JABEZ | Stop ! You don't understand ! | |
| MINERS | We understand all too well, Merchant Wareham. It's payback time ! Do you have anything to say for yourself? | |
| JABEZ | I'd like to take this opportunity to say a few words... | |
| MINERS: | THE GAITER! | |
| [GAITERING SCENE EXCISED FROM THIS FAMILY EDITION; REPLACE WITH:] | ||
| NARRATOR: | During the evisceration by the enraged mummers, Merchant Wareham offers the miners a much more lucrative contract, signs over his fortune to Billy and entreats the young lad to live a more virtuous life than he. | |
| MINERS' MUMMERS' SONG | ||
| MINERS: | Up the shafts they scamper,
Billy, Scamp, and Dwarves,
In the dark and praying, To the ore boat wharves. Ritten ditten die doh, Ritten ditten dee, Miners dressed as women, Got up to be free. |
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| NARRATOR | Then out on the wharf there arose such a clatter, That everyone turned and got a face full of splatter, The air had the reek of cheap grog and bad grub, 'Twas Seafarin' Santa, rub a dub dub. |
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| BILLY | Look, everybody, it's Seafarin' Santa ! | |
| SANTA | Yo ho ho, Billy, have you ever been to sea, lad ? | |
| BILLY | What are you doing here, Seafarin' Santa ? | |
| SANTA | The presents are all delivered, Little Billy Penton, good little boys and girls who do what they're told are all looked after. Now, in the true tradition of Christmas, it's time to pick up the coal for all the children who've been naughty. | |
| BILLY | Gosh. | |
| SANTA | Yes, big black bituminous lumps for all the children in Communist Russia, and heaps of dirty black coal for all the millions of pigmy heathens ... | |
| MINERS | Hey !!! | |
| SANTA | ... in the colonies who still don't believe in the one true Christ. | |
| BILLY | I always wondered what they got in their stockings. | |
| SANTA | No fear, Little Billy, Seafarin' Santa knows all and sees all. You're still on my "nice" list. Hop aboard. There's time yet for a detour on the way to Oogoobamba. I'll drop you by the Wareham Mansion after. I'll wager the new master of the house could arrange a steamin' rum toddy for thirsty seafarin' men like us ! | |
| BILLY | Oh, would you, Seafarin' Santa ? You're the greatest. Come on, Scamp, come on, fella ! | |
| SCAMP | Grrrr. Woof ! Woof ! | |
| BILLY | Attaboy, Scamp ! | |
| MINERS | Hey ! What about us ? Yo, Seafarin' Santa ! Don't leave without us! | |
| SANTA | Hah hah ! Anchors aweigh ! Grab an oar, my son ! Heave ho ! And off we go ! Now, Stingker ! Now, Spritzer ! Now, Moby ! Now, Dick ! Up, Oldspice ! Up, Horeson! Up, Pewker ! Up, Shtick ! | |
| BILLY | Wow ! We're takin' off ! | |
| SANTA | Flying fish, Billy ! Yo, ho, ho ! | |
| BILLY | I will be home for Christmas ! They are going to be happy holidays after all. Thanks to you, Seafarin' Santa ! | |
| SANTA | Look, Little Billy, the clouds ! The papers were right. Snow is general all over the island, falling on the pine-clad hills; falling into the Gander bog and the Fogo sea; falling faintly through the universe, and faintly falling, Billy, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead, the sick and the destitute, the good the bad and the ugly. | |
| BILLY | Yeah, sure, Santa, whatever you say. Look, Scamp, there's people down there fishing ! And they're waving ! Merry Christmas, everybody ! | |
| SCAMP | Woof woof ! | |
| BILLY | Merry Christmas, Newfoundland ! | |
| SCAMP | Woof woof ! | |
| BILLY | We're goin' home ! We're goin' hoooooome ! God bless us, every man jack of us ! God bless every cod-jiggin', tree-cuttin', coal-scuttlin' one of us ! | |
| SANTA | Yo, ho, ho ! | |
| NARRATOR | They rowed in their dory, to the height of the sky, And away they took off, like a ginger and rye, And Santa exclaimed ere they flew into the night, "Hang over the side, Billy ! What a fantastic sight | |
| LITTLE BILLY'S ODE | ||
| ALL | That's the tale we promised you, 'Bout Little Billy's Christmas, A tale stogged full of woe and mirth For Mister and for Missus, For boys and girls of any year A yarn that spins a spell It tells of Christmas wonders, And it warns of Christmas hell. Little Billy Penton, the foundling of our hearts, Little Billy Penton, known throughout these parts, Little Billy Penton, his spirit is unbeaten, Amazing when you think about How other people treat 'en. |
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