hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehello. i'm mister ed. a horse is a horse, of course, of course and no one can talk to a horse, of course that is, of course, unless the horse is the famous mister ed [ed singing on radio] she'll be mine today [humming] hey, wilbur. wilbur, let's get going. you know, i get a kick every time they play that song. it's still going strong, and i wrote it last year. you wrote? you mean i wrote. since you don't want anybody to know that you talk, well, i had to take the credit. and those fat royalty checks.

ed, do you remember mrs. addison's brother paul fenton? yeah, what about him? well, he's been after me for months to write a song like my... hmm. uh, like our pretty little filly, for his music publishing company. come on, wilbur, hurry it up. [sighing] my sabrina. aha! can't wait to see your girlfriend, huh? [sighing] just look at sabrina. ever see such kissable lips? yeah, like 2 beautiful bicycle pedals. you can say that again. yeah, she's a nice-looking horse, ed, but, uh, a little hippy, don't you think? [laughing] no, everything's in the right place. ed, why don't you write a love song about sabrina? who's got time? i'm too busy making love.

hello, sabrina. my, you're getting kind of chubby, aren't you? oh, you... hi, andy. hey, wilbur. [harrumphing] [harrumphing] just coffee, al. thanks. say, your mister ed's really sweet on my horse, isn't he? yeah. here comes harvey wells. his horse, robespierre, is a handsome animal, isn't he? hi, harv'. hi. [harrumphing] [snarling] [harrumphing]

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my brother-in-law just drove up. quick! hide me! remember, if he rings the bell, you don't know where i am. oh, roger, the way you carry on about kay's brother is ridiculous. you should try to like paul, roger. i know he needles you, makes fun of you, and gives you a hard time, but underneath it all, i have a feeling he really hates you. wilbur, that's not very funny. [footsteps approaching] there he is. remember, you don't know where i am. [doorbell ringing] wilbur, baby, how's my boy? carol, sweetie pie, you're looking more gorgeous than ever! oh, if i were a married man, i could really go for this girl. well, i am, and i do.

yeah, that was great, great, great. that was a swell number you wrote, kid. it's a year since you published wilbur's song. that's right. and it's been a year since my company's had a hit. and that's why i'm here. wilbur, the blues are coming back bigger than ever this year. that's what i need. a good sock blues number. you're going to sit down and write me a hit song. oh, paul, i'm an architect. i admit i got lucky with pretty little filly, but that doesn't make me a songwriter. what're you talking about? anybody who can write a hit like prett y little filly is just loaded with talent. if you can write a love song, you can write a blues number because anybody who's got talent can do anything. right, roger? you got to work fast, wilbur. lot of companies coming out with new stuff, and i've got to beat them to the punch. roger, what were you doing in there? developing pictures? you may not believe this, but i had a very good reason for being in there. really? what? i was hiding from you. well, that's a pretty wild story. you know something? i believe him.

well, it all depends. paul, do you want a plain, ordinary hit, or--or an immortal classic? [bowling pins clattering] hey, you're getting to be a real sharpshooter. [laughing] thanks. you know what i'd like for my birthday? no, what? 2 pairs of bowling shoes. ok, ed, if, um-- if you do me a favor. you've got a deal. what's the favor? well, paul fenton dropped by. oh. yeah. he, uh... he wants me to write a song for his publishing company. oh, yeah? here, ed, have a carrot. thank you. hmm, imported.

well, he said he wants a blues number now. you see, that's the trend. so i told him i'd see what i could do. huh, you mean what i could do? well, that's what i meant, yes. well, what about it? well, uh, i don't dig writing the blues, pops. why not? i'm like a happy, swingin' cat, man. try ella fitzgerald's horse. come on, ed. you wrote pretty little filly, and that was a big hit. here's your chance to write another song. no, man. i made the scene with one gasser and i'm, like, through. come on, ed, give it a try. look, i'll see if i can put you in the mood. [clearing throat] oh, i got the blues i got those eating carrot blues oh, brother. i got those carrot blues i got the eating carrot blues oh, i get the blues when i eat a carrot i get the blues when i look at a parrot

carrot blues i... uh, hi, paul. wilbur, do you always sing to your horse? well, i--i find it helps me compose. i mean, horses have a great sense of pitch, you know. all animals do. you take cats. the best violin strings... go on, ed. go on. wilbur, you don't have to explain anything to me. as far as i'm concerned, all composers are kooks. well... now, wilbur, if singing to your horse is going to help you write a hit song, i'll take you to santa anita and we'll do a whole album. yeah? wilbur, you don't seem to understand. i came over here privately to tell you how important this song is to me. if my company doesn't come up with a hit pretty soon, i'll be out of business. oh, is it that bad, paul? i'm sorry. wilbur, i'm depending on you! your first song was lucky for me, and i've a hunch you can pull me out of this.

i'll really keep my nose to the feedbag. yeah? the grindstone. yeah. ok, wilbur, you get in there, start slugging. i'm depending on you. i know you'll come up with a hit song. as soon as you feel you have something good, just call me, huh? ok. oh, i'll be right next door. next door? yeah, yeah, i'm staying with roger and kay till you come up with that hit song, baby. oh, you artists need somebody to keep pushing you all the time. yeah. what did roger say about your staying with them? roger, who knows? he's so difficult to understand when he's crying. well, you know, it's hard to tell how long it might take. oh, i know you can do it. get in there, keep slugging, keep pitching, you'll be great. attaboy. don't forget, call me. [bowling pins clattering] uh-uh, temper, temper. oh, sabrina, you doll, you. 1,100 pounds of loveliness, and it's all mine.

what are you doing? just locking up your carrots. from now on, you are on straight hay. hay? that's for horses. what do you think you are? a songwriter who earned those carrots. when you write a song about the blues, you'll get your carrots back. so, you wanna make me miserable, huh? yeah, the best songwriters are the hungry ones. i see you've never met fats domino. he was skinny till he made it. s.p.c.a., please. oh, no, you don't. you start writing the blues. i warn you, we songwriters have a strong union. start writing. there'll be a picket line. start writing. i'll sue you for every carrot you've got. ed, i don't like to make you miserable, but that's the way it's got to be. i mean to say, you go ahead, if you feel like crying, let the tears come out.

let the blues come through, the blues! hi, rog'. wilbur, i have a brother-in-law who has moved in on me and is making my life sheer agony. i had hoped you would give him his song, and he would leave. instead, i find you standing here, begging a horse to cry. wilbur, please. i implore you in my hour of need, don't flip your wig. paul's really giving you a problem, uh? when he's not on the telephone, he's in the refrigerator. he's wearing my clothes, he's eating my food, he's destroying my house. he's not a brother-in-law, he's a 200-pound termite! well, rog', really, i'm doing the best i can with this song, but you know, you can't rush these things. stormy weather wasn't written in one sprinkle. why don't you go on home, rog', go on. rest and relax. i'll stick with it until i come up with something. god bless you, my boy. my prayers are with you.

ed, that man's in a spot, and we have to help him. now, let's really get in there and come up with something. sure, kid. meanwhile, how about a little bowling? there'll be no bowling. then how about turning on the t.v. set? no t.v. oh, please, wilbur. paladin is riding a friend of mine. ed, until you come up with a song, there'll be no carrots, no bowling, and no t.v. ok, i can live without those things. and you can't see sabrina. no sabrina? now you're hitting below the saddle. ed, the sooner you get miserable, the sooner you'll be happy again. misery, misery. no sabrina, sheesh. wilbur, you got anything? anything you want to try out on me? well, it's, uh, it's coming kinda slow, paul.

my accountant just sent me my financial statement in 2 words: "leave town." well, i'm trying. you've got to be patient. as soon as i give birth to the blues, you'll get the first cigar. attaboy, chickie baby. remember, i'm counting on you. paul, you'll get that song if i have to write it myself.

well, did you come up with anything? your light was on last night when i went to bed. ed? [snorting] oh. i know how you must miss sabrina, ed. believe me, i hate to do this to you, but you got to suffer to write the blues. right, ed? ed, you've been up all night.

you all right, fella? [snorting] ed, this is the only way to get into the mood. you understand, don't you? [sniffling] oh, no, ed, no. don't cry, please, ed. oh. oh. oh, ed, you know how i feel about you, fella. i mean, if--if i had a choice, the choice of letting you suffer or paul suffer, or addison suffer, i'd let them suffer. [snorting] then why am i doing this to you? i mean, their problems aren't my problems. and they're not your problems.

ed, i'm going to put my riding clothes on, and before you know it, you'll be back with sabrina. why did you stop, ed? flat tire? look at that stupid robespierre, trying to make time with my baby. [scoffs] you worried, ed? no, sabrina's a one-horse filly. well, let's go, wilbur. let's go? you're on the bottom. [chuckling] sorry. (andy) hello, wilbur. hi, fellas.

[nickering] [neighing softly] [harrumphing] [nickering] [neighing] [sniffling] what's the matter, ed? take me home, wilbur. i'm ready to write the blues. how are you doing, ed? got anything yet? yeah, i think so. oh, what is it? i call it the empty feedbag blues. let's hear it. you mean, sing it? come on, chickie baby. [clearing throat] when i get up for breakfast

'cause everything's going out and nothing's coming in believe me when i tell you i have heard the news i got those empty feedbag empty feedbag blues my pretty filly told me to stay away tonight 'cause all that i bring with me is a healthy appetite why am i so unlucky me with 4 horseshoes i got those empty feedbag empty feedbag blues great wilbur, great! gets you right in here. you can feel that broken heart in every note.

like it! like it, wilbur? that's the understatement of the year. do you realize what you've done? you've put the fenton music company back in business! i've got a million people waiting to hear this. wilbur, i can't thank you enough. you've done it again. you've done it again! the empty feedbag blues. [smooching] oh, oh, tell roger i'm going back to my own apartment. and tell him i'm sending him a little thank-you gift. his clothes. the empty feedbag blues! the empty feedbag blues! ed, that carrot box is open permanently, and i'm throwing away the key. well... [sighing] ed, y-you want me to bring the t.v. back? can i set up the bowling pins for you? [sighing] i'm sorry you lost sabrina, ed, but you'll find somebody else. wilbur, do they take horses in the foreign legion?

it's my fault you lost sabrina. i'll tell you what i can do. i can buy her for you. buy sabrina? sure. andy said many times he'll be willing to sell her if the price was good. i'll drop around and see him first thing in the morning. wilbur, if she doesn't come to me of her own free will, then i say bring her in on a rope. [laughing] i don't see andy around here. he must still be asleep. hark! i hear the stirring of my love in her bedchamber. (wilbur) maybe we should come back later, huh? please, wilbur, let me just look in and say good morning. ed, you shouldn't. why not? she is practically mrs. ed. well, i guess andy won't mind.

are you decent? (ed) who's that? must be sabrina's mother. or grandmother. no. that's sabrina. see, women just don't look their best in the mornings. she looks so old. she's 18 if she's a day. no, she's not that old. no? well, i'll bet there's a set of teeth in that bucket of water. ed, stop talking like that. come to think of it, she only chews soft oats. like i said, we just caught her at a bad time. look what's hanging on the wall. her girdle. that 's just... by golly, it does look like a girdle, doesn't it? no, it's just a wide-belly cinch.

uh, you know, i think i better leave andy a $50 deposit. hold it! you're not sticking me with that beast. ed! ed, come back with my wallet. poor old robespierre. what a shock he's in for. [chuckling]

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