Christy:
	I touch the floor and it freezes me.
	I step onto it and I squack.
	Why do I feel?
	Why do I shriek and squeal?
	I want my slippers back.

	From down the hall, it calls to me,
	To throw a log upon the flame.
	To heat the house,
	Or just lie here and grouse,
	I guess it's all the same.

	So I will stoke... up the fire.
	The thermostat, I'll turn.
	I will stoke... up the fire,
	And let it...

Chrisber:
	These socks I wear are mocking me.
	The floor is chilly, I've no doubt.
	'Cause Christy's cold,
	I swear I will be bold.
	I'd better help her out.

Trip:
	'Though they are warmed... by the fire.
	Some people never learn.
	They should just stoke... up the fire,
	And let it...

Harold:
	Will they lie there cold together?
	Struggling through this chilly weather?