Clog

or

sometimes Mr. Clogs.

And he's

said to have been an employee who operated the attraction.

Yeah.

But...

Clogs, man.

It could be the ghost.

Cleopatra's Crocs

Well, you've al- C- Cleopatra clogs

There you are

Can't Willy saying it

The Children's Book of Christmas Stories by various artists.

Little Wolf's Wooden Shoes by Francois Coupé.

Once upon a time, so long ago that everybody has forgotten the date, in a city in the north of Europe, with such a hard name that nobody can ever remember it, there was a little seven-year-old boy named Wolf, whose parents were dead, who lived with a cross and stingy old aunt, who never thought of kissing him more than once a year, and who sighed deeply whenever she gave him a bowlful of soup But the poor little fellow had such a sweet nature that in spite of everything, he loved the old woman, although he was terribly afraid of her and could never look at her ugly old face without shivering.

As this aunt of Little Wolf was known to have a house of her own and an old woolen stocking full of gold, she had not dared to send the boy to a charity school.

It was the schoolmaster's custom to take all his pupils to the midnight mass on Christmas Eve and to bring them home again afterward.

Now, as the winter this year was very bitter and as heavy snow had been falling for several days, all the boys came well bundled up in warm clothes with fur caps pulled over their ears, padded jackets, gloves, and knitted mittens, and strong thick-soled boots.

Only Little Wolf presented himself shivering in the poor clothes he used to wear both weekdays and Sundays, and having on his feet only thin socks and heavy wooden shoes.

His naughty companions, noticing his sad face and awkward appearance, made many jokes at his expense.

The Children's Book of Christmas Stories by various artists.

Little Wolf's Wooden Shoes by Francois Couper.

Once upon a time, so long ago that everybody has forgotten the date, in a city in the north of Europe, with such a hard name that nobody can ever remember it, there was a little seven-year-old boy named Wolf, whose parents were dead, who lived with a cross and stingy old aunt, who never thought of kissing him more than once a year, and who sighed deeply whenever she gave him a bowl full of soup.

But the poor little fellow had such a sweet nature that in spite of everything, he loved the old woman, although he was terribly afraid of her and could never look at her ugly old face without shivering.

It was the schoolmaster's custom to take all his pupils to the midnight mass on Christmas Eve, and to bring them home again afterward.

Now, as the winter this year was very bitter, and as heavy snow had been falling for several days, all the boys came well bundled up in warm clothes, with fur caps pulled over their ears, padded jackets, gloves, and knitted mittens, and strong, thick-soled boots.

Only Little Wolf presented himself shivering in the poor clothes he used to wear both weekdays and Sundays, and having on his feet only thin socks and heavy wooden shoes.

His naughty companions, noticing his sad face and awkward appearance, made many jokes at his expense.

Who's there?

Wooden shoes.

Wooden Shoes Who?

Wooden Shoes like to know.

[laughs]

[laughs] If your shoe game needs some work, Edgars has the whole family covered from braai [laughs] to beach to a great look for the office.

The Children's Book of Christmas Stories by various artists.

Little Wolf's Wooden Shoes by François Coupé Once upon a time, so long ago that everybody has forgotten the date, in a city in the north of Europe with such a hard name that nobody can ever remember it, there was a little seven-year-old boy named Wolf, whose parents were dead, who lived with a cross and stingy old aunt, who never thought of kissing him more than once a year, and who sighed deeply whenever she gave him a bowlful of soup.

But the poor little fellow had such a sweet nature that in spite of everything, he loved the old woman, although he was terribly afraid of her and could never look at her ugly old face without shivering.

As this aunt of little Wolf was known to have a house of her own and an old woolen stocking full of gold, she had not dared to send the boy to a charity school.

It was the schoolmaster's custom to take all his pupils to the midnight mass on Christmas Eve and to bring them home again afterward.

Now, as the winter this year was very bitter and as heavy snow had been falling for several days, all the boys came well bundled up in warm clothes with fur caps pulled over their ears, padded jackets, gloves and knitted mittens, and strong thick-soled boots.

Only little Wolf presented himself shivering in the poor clothes he used to wear both weekdays and Sundays and having on his feet only thin socks in heavy wooden shoes.

His naughty companions, noticing his sad face and awkward appearance, made many jokes at his expense.