Waffles Skis the Splatterhorn

By Steve Cleverley and Sanj Sen

Shhh… can you hear that? It’s the schussing sound of a little Moshling bear skiing slowly down the snowy, moonlit slopes of the mighty Splatterhorn. His name is Waffles… and this is his story. So snuggle down, cosy up and relax.

Shhhhh, down a mountain

Down a mountain

Down a mountain

Drifting slowly into snowy starlit dreams and moonbeams up ahead

Way up in the mountains, slaloming through trees

A dreamy little Moshling is swooshing down on skis

The swishing sound his skis make is peaceful, even soothing

And as he makes his slow descent it’s hard to not start snoozing

This Moshling’s name is Waffles, a kind of polar bear

With earmuffs and a matching scarf, and pure white fluffy hair

He skis at night to clear his mind, from twilight through to dawn

For this is Waffles’ mountain, the mighty Splatterhorn

Schussing through the moonlit snow helps Waffles to relax

But gliding down the piste tonight, he spots some fresh ski tracks

“Another Moshling’s skiing here?” thinks Waffles, then he sees

A little Snowtot just ahead, ‘bend-ze-ing’ his knees

Shhhhh, down a mountain

Down a mountain

Down a mountain

Drifting slowly into snowy starlit dreams and moonbeams up ahead

Right beside the Snowtot now, Waffles says, “Hello…

… I see you also like the sound of skis upon fresh snow?”

“Oh yes,” replies the Snowtot, “I love to ski at night…

Especially when the Splatterhorn is bathed in pale moonlight”

Waffles and the Snowtot agree to ski together

And as they do they chat about the constant chilly weather

The Snowtot’s name is Tomba, a very friendly chap

With button eyes, a carrot nose and fluffy beanie hat

Halfway down the mountain now, the pair start feeling weary

So they choose to take an easier route, it seems a prudent theory

But as a cloud obscures the moon, it’s hard to see ahead

And Waffles and his Snowtot buddy wish they’d stayed in bed

Shhhhh, down a mountain

Down a mountain

Down a mountain

Drifting slowly into snowy starlit dreams and moonbeams up ahead

Despite the visibility, our snowy friends continue

And there beneath a frosty pine, they see a little igloo

Just beside its entrance, a Moshling’s getting ready

He’s putting on his scarf and mitts and talking to his teddy

“Night night Teddy,” says the Moshling, “Don’t wait up for me…

I need to get some night air so I’m going for a ski”

Waffles and his new friend Tomba wave as they pass by

And as they do the moon appears and brightens up the sky

“My name’s Franz,” the Moshling says, “Can I ski with you?”

“Of course you can,” the friends reply, “Welcome to our crew”

The three of them glide gracefully, carving through the snow

As starlight floods the mountain with a wondrous twilight glow

Shhhhh, down a mountain

Down a mountain

Down a mountain

Drifting slowly into snowy starlit dreams and moonbeams up ahead

Waffles, Franz and Tomba now start skiing slightly slower

The powdery snow gets firmer as they zig-zag lower and lower

Up ahead a rockface looms, and things feel somewhat colder

So Waffles leads the gang towards a tunnel by a boulder

Entering the passageway our friends are stunned and awed

They’re skiing through a tunnel that feels warm yet hasn’t thawed

Its walls are glazed with shimmering ice, and icicles hang down

While gemstones light the crunchy snow, like sequins in a gown

The tunnel starts to widen as they gradually descend

Then as the exit beckons, Waffles spots another friend

It’s a Moshling known as Gracie, and she asks to tag along

So our trio’s now a quartet and they sing their sleepy song

Shhhhh, down a mountain

Down a mountain

Down a mountain

Drifting slowly into snowy starlit dreams and moonbeams up ahead

Waffles, Tomba, Franz and Gracie now feel very tired

But thanks to their amazing journey, all four feel inspired

They schuss along the lower slopes towards a cable car

Which only takes you back home when you wish upon a star

As fresh snow starts to fall once more they see the lower station

And twinkling lights across the valley form a constellation

The Moshlings led by Waffles then remove their little skis

And look back up the Splatterhorn, which always guarantees…

…To fill you with a sense of wonder, even in your dreams

Cos up above the world of Moshi, nothing’s as it seems

Maybe Waffles skis the mountain purely in his mind

Either way, it does the trick and helps him to unwind

Shhhhh, down a mountain

Down a mountain

Down a mountain

Drifting slowly into snowy starlit dreams and moonbeams up ahead

Now inside the cable car, our pals are warm and snug

And as they near the summit, Waffles gives his friends a hug

“Goodnight, Tomba, Goodnight Gracie, Goodnight to you Franz”

Says Waffles as the four of them look down while holding hands

The mountain looks magnificent, the stars above are glimmering

While frosted slopes and snow-clad trees start twinkling and shimmering

The cable car stops several times to drop off Waffles’ friends

But the summit of the Splatterhorn is where our story ends

For way up here’s where Waffles puts his head down every night

In a chalet caked in snow and ice that’s hidden out of sight

He snuggles up in beddybies, content for the time being

And drifts off dreaming all about his night of twilight skiing

Goodnight…