I feel happy. I feel happy. Fiends! I'll tear them apart! In war we're tough and able, quite indefatigable. Between our quests we sequin vests and impersonate Clark Gable. Bring out your dead!
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Aaaaaah! Aaaaaaaaah! Aagh! Look, you stupid bastard. You've got no arms left. The swallow may fly south with the sun or the house martin or the plover may seek warmer climes in winter, yet these are not strangers to our land? So, why do witches burn? And gallantly, he chickened out. The pond! Throw her into the pond!
Right. All right. Chickennn! Just a flesh wound. What? A swallow carrying a coconut? Not at all. See you on Thursday.
Oh, certainly, sir. How do you do, good lady? I am Arthur, King of the Britons. Who's castle is that? Right! Charge! Bread!
Oh, Dennis, forget about freedom. Arthur! Arthur, King of the Britons!
Eh. You are indeed brave, Sir Knight, but the fight is mine. Well, you didn't bother to find out, did you? Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! Yeah! What happens now? I don't want to go on the cart!
Chicken! Help! Help! I'm being repressed! God be praised! I feel fine! Oh, yeah, I agree with that. I think I'll go for a walk. He buggered off. I'm not dead!