The Black Knight always triumphs! Have at you! Come on, then. Ooh! I blow my nose at you, so-called Arthur King, you and all your silly English k-nnnnniggets. Uh, he's already got one, you see. Look, my liege! We do routines and chorus scenes With footwork impeccable. We dine well here in Camelot. We eat ham and jam and spam a lot. Thursday. It's only a model. A witch! A witch!
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It's a busy life in Camelot. And you. Oh, quick! Get the sword out. I want to cut his head off! Well, when's your next round? You have proved yourself worthy. Will you join me? Or to have his eyes gouged out and his elbows broken, to have his kneecaps split and his body burned away And his limbs all hacked and mangled, brave Sir Robin! No, I've got to go to the Robinsons'. They've lost nine today.
Nine pence. Run away! No, I've got to go to the Robinsons'. They've lost nine today. Not at all. They could be carried. Thursday. Aaaagh!
Not at all. See you on Thursday. No, you're not. You'll be stone dead in a moment. Listen. In order to maintain air-speed velocity, a swallow needs to beat its wings forty-three times every second, right? I'm thirty-seven. Now, knock it off! My liege! I would be honored. I am your king! We do routines and chorus scenes With footwork impeccable. We dine well here in Camelot. We eat ham and jam and spam a lot. Aaaagh!
Oh! I'm not! A duck! Of course not! You are English types-a! The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water signifying by Divine Providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. The Black Knight always triumphs! Have at you! Come on, then.