I Wonder What The King Is Doing Tonight (ARTHUR)
I know what my people are thinking tonight,
As home through the shadows they wander.
Ev'ryone smiling in secret delight,
They stare at the castle and ponder.
Whenever the wind blows this way,
You can almost hear ev'ryone say:
I wonder what the king is doing tonight?
What merriment is the king pursuing tonight?
The candles at the court, they never burned as bright.
I wonder what the king is up to tonight?
How goes the final hour
As he sees his bridal bower
Being regally and legally prepared?
Well, I'll tell you what the king is doing tonight:
He's scared! He's scared!
You mean that a king who fought a dragon,
Hacked him in two and fixed his wagon,
Goes to be wed in terror and distress?
Yes!
A warrior who's so calm in battle
Even his armor doesn't rattle
Faces a woman petrified with fright?
Right!
You mean that appalling clamoring
That sounds like a blacksmith hammering
Is merely the banging of his royal knees?
Please!
You wonder what the king is wishing tonight?
He's wishing he were in Scotland fishing tonight!
What occupies his time while waiting for the bride?
He's searching high and low for some place to hide.
And oh, the expectation,
The sublime anticipation
He must feel about the wedding night to come.
Well, I'll tell you what the king is feeling tonight:
He's numb!
He shakes!
He quails! He quakes!
And that's what the king is doing tonight.
The Simple Joys Of Maidenhood (GUENEVERE)
St. Genevieve, St. Genevieve,
It's Guenevere! Remember me?
St. Genevieve, St. Genevieve,
I'm over here beneath this tree.
You know how faithful and devout I am
You must admit I've always been a lamb
But Genevieve, St. Genevieve
I won't obey you anymore, you've gone a bit too far!
I won't be bid and bargained for like beads at a bazaar.
St. Genevieve, I've run away, eluded them and fled
And from now on, I intend to pray to someone else instead!
Oh Genevieve, St. Genevieve,
Where were you when my youth was sold?
Dear Genevieve, sweet Genevieve,
Shan't I be young before I'm old?
Where are the simple joys of maidenhood?
Where are all those adoring, daring boys?
Where's the knight pining so for me
He leaps to death in woe for me?
Oh, where are a maiden's simple joys?
Shan't I have the normal life a maiden should?
Shall I never be rescued in the wood?
Shall two knights never tilt for me
And let their blood be spilt for me?
Oh, where are the simple joys of maidenhood?
Shall I not be on a pedestal
Worshipped and competed for?
Not be carried off, or better still
Cause a little war?
Where are the simple joys of maidenhood?
Are these sweet gentle pleasures gone for good?
Shall a feud not begin for me?
Shall kith not kill their kin for me?
Oh, where are the trivial joys
Harmless convivial joys
Where are the simple joys of maidenhood?
Camelot (ARTHUR)
It's true! It's true! The crown has made it clear.
The climate must be perfect all the year.
A law was made a distant moon ago here:
July and August cannot be too hot.
And there's a legal limit to the snow here
In Camelot.
The winter is forbidden till December
And exits March the second on the dot.
By order, summer lingers through September
In Camelot.
Camelot! Camelot!
I know it sounds a bit bizarre,
But in Camelot, Camelot
That's how conditions are.
The rain may never fall till after sundown.
By eight, the morning fog must disappear.
In short, there's simply not
A more congenial spot
For happily-ever-aftering than here
In Camelot.
Camelot! Camelot!
I know it gives a person pause,
But in Camelot, Camelot
Those are the legal laws.
The snow may never slush upon the hillside.
By nine p.m. the moonlight must appear.
In short, there's simply not
A more congenial spot
For happily-ever-aftering than here
In Camelot.
Follow Me (NIMUE)
Far from day, far from night,
Out of time, out of sight,
In between earth and sea,
We shall fly; follow me.
Dry the rain, warm the snow;
Where the winds never go
Follow me, follow me, follow me
To a cave by a sapphire shore
Where we'll walk through an emerald door,
And for thousands of breathless
Evermores my life you shall be.
Only you, only I,
World farewell, world goodbye.
To our home 'neath the sea
We shall fly; follow me.
Only you, only I,
World farewell, world goodbye.
To our home 'neath the sea
We shall fly; follow me.
Follow me, follow me, follow me.
C'est Moi (LANCELOT)
Camelot! Camelot!
In far-off France I heard your call.
Camelot! Camelot!
And here am I to give my all.
I know in my soul what you expect of me,
And all that and more I shall be.
A knight of the Table Round should be invincible,
Suceed where a less fantastic man would fail.
Climb a wall no one else can climb,
Cleave a dragon in record time,
Swim a moat in a coat of heavy iron mail.
No matter the pain, he ought to be unwinceable,
Impossible deeds should be his daily fare.
But where in the world
Is there in the world
A man so extraordinaire?
C'est moi! C'est moi, I'm forced to admit.
'Tis I, I humbly reply.
That mortal who
These marvels can do,
C'est moi, c'est moi, 'tis I.
I've never lost in battle or game;
I'm simply the best by far.
When swords are crossed
'Tis always the same:
One blow and au revoir!
C'est moi! C'est moi! So adm'rably fit!
A French Prometheus unbound.
And here I stand, with valour untold,
Exeption'ly brave, amazingly bold,
To serve at the Table Round!
The soul of a knight should be a thing remarkable,
His heart and his mind as pure as morning dew.
With a will and a self-restraint
That's the envy of ev'ry saint
He could easily work a miracle or two.
To love and desire he ought to be unsparkable,
The ways of the flesh should offer no allure.
But where in the world
Is there in the world
A man so untouched and pure?
C'est moi!
C'est moi! C'est moi, I blush to disclose.
I'm far too noble to lie.
That man in whom
These qualities bloom,
C'est moi, c'est moi, 'tis I.
I've never strayed from all I believe;
I'm blessed with an iron will.
Had I been made the partner of Eve,
We'd be in Eden still.
C'est moi! C'est moi! The angels have chose
To fight their battles below,
And here I stand, as pure as a pray'r,
Incredibly clean, with virtue to spare,
The godliest man I know!
C'est moi!
The Lusty Month Of May (GUENEVERE)
Tra la! It's May!
The lusty month of May!
That lovely month when ev'ryone goes
Blissfully astray.
Tra la! It's here!
That shocking time of year
When tons of wicked little thoughts
Merrily appear!
It's May! It's May!
That gorgeous holiday
When ev'ry maiden prays that her lad
Will be a cad!
It's mad! It's gay!
A libelous display!
Those dreary vows that ev'ryone takes,
Ev'ryone breaks.
Ev'ryone makes divine mistakes
The lusty month of May!
Whence this fragrance wafting through the air?
What sweet feelings does its scent transmute?
Whence this perfume floating ev'rywhere?
Don't you know it's that dear forbidden fruit!
Tra la la la la!
That dear forbidden fruit!
Tra la la la la!
Tra la la la la
Tra la! Tra la! Tra la la la la la la!
It's May!
The lusty month of May!
That darling month when ev'ryone throws
Self-control away.
It's time to do
A wretched thing or two,
And try to make each precious day
One you'll always rue!
It's May! It's May!
The month of "yes you may,"
The time for ev'ry frivolous whim,
Proper or "im."
It's wild! It's gay!
A blot in ev'ry way.
The birds and bees with all of their vast
Amorous past
Gaze at the human race aghast,
The lusty month of May.
Tra la! It's May!
The lusty month of May!
That lovely month when ev'ryone goes
Blissfully astray.
Tra la! It's here!
That shocking time of year
When tons of wicked little thoughts
Merrily appear.
It's May! It's May!
The month of great dismay.
When all the world is brimming with fun,
Wholesome or "un."
It's mad! It's gay!
A libelous display!
Those dreary vows that ev'ryone takes,
Ev'ryone breaks.
Ev'ryone makes divine mistakes
The lusty month of May!
Then You May Take Me To the Fair (GUENEVERE)
Sir Lionel!...
Do you recall the other night
That I distinctly said you might
Serve as my escort at the next town fair?
Well, I'm afraid there's someone who
I must invite in place of you,
Someone who plainly is beyond compare.
That Frenchman's power is more tremendous
Than I have e'er seen anywhere,
And when a man is that stupendous,
He, by right, should take me to the fair.
(SIR LIONEL)
Your majesty, let me tilt with him and smite him!
Don't refuse me so abruptly, I implore!
Oh, give me the opportunity to fight him
And Gaul will be divided once more!
(GUENEVERE)
You'll bash and thrash him?
(SIR LIONEL)
I'll smash and mash him.
(GUENEVERE)
You'll give him trouble?
(SIR LIONEL)
He will be rubble.
(GUENEVERE)
A mighty whack?
(SIR LIONEL)
His skull will crack!
(GUENEVERE)
Well...
Then you may take me to the fair,
If you do all the things you promise,
In fact my heart would break
Should you not take me
To the fair.
Sir Sagramore!...
I have some rather painful news
Related to the subject:
Who's To be beside me at the next court ball.
You were the chosen one, I know,
But as tradition, it should go
To the unquestioned champion in the hall.
And I'm convinced that splendid Frenchman
Could easily conquer one and all,
And besting all our local henchmen,
He should sit beside me at the ball.
(SIR SAGRAMORE)
I beg of you, ma'am, withhold your invitation.
I swear to you, this challenge will be met.
And when I have finished up the operation,
I'll serve him to your highness en brochette.
(GUENEVERE)
You'll pierce right through him?
(SIR SAGRAMORE)
I'll barbecue him.
(GUENEVERE)
A wicked thrust?
(SIR SAGRAMORE)
'Twill be dust to dust.
(GUENEVERE)
From fore to aft--
(SIR SAGRAMORE)
He'll feel a draft!
(GUENEVERE)
Well then...
You may sit by me at the ball,
If you demolish him in battle,
In fact, I know I'd cry
Were you not by me
At the ball.
Sir Dinidan!...
Didn't I promise that you may
Guide me to London on the day
That I go up to judge the cattle show?
As it is quite a nasty ride,
There must be someone at my side
Who'll be defending me from beast and foe.
So when I choose whom I prefer go,
I take the strongest knight I know.
And young Du Lac seems strongest, ergo
He should take me to the cattle show.
(SIR DINIDAN)
Your majesty can't believe this blust'ring prattle--
Let him prove it with a sword or lance instead!
I promise you, when I've done this Gaul in battle
His shoulders will be lonesome for his head.
(GUENEVERE)
You'll disconnect him?
(SIR DINIDAN)
I'll vivisect him.
(GUENEVERE)
You'll open-wide him?
(SIR DINIDAN)
I'll subdivide him.
(GUENEVERE)
Oh, dear, dear dear dear dear...
Then you may guide me to the show,
If you can carry out your program,
In fact I'd grieve inside
Should you not guide me
To the show.
(SIR LIONEL, SIR SAGRAMORE & SIR DINIDAN)
Milady, we shall put an end to
That Gallic bag of noise and nerve.
When we do all that we intend to,
He'll be a plate of French hors d'ouevres!
(GUENEVERE)
I do applaud your noble goals,
Now let us see if you achieve them.
And if you do, then you will be the three
Who will go
To the ball, to the show,
And take me to the fair.
How To Handle A Woman (ARTHUR)
"How to handle a woman?
There's a way," said the wise old man,
"A way known by ev'ry woman
Since the whole rigmarole began."
"Do I flatter her?" I begged him answer.
"Do I threaten or cajole or plead?
Do I brood or play the gay romancer?"
Said he, smiling: "No indeed.
How to handle a woman?
Mark me well, I will tell you, sir:
The way to handle a woman
Is to love her...simply love her...
Merely love her...love her...love her."
"How to handle a woman?
Mark me well, I will tell you, sir:
The way to handle a woman
Is to love her...simply love her...
Merely love her...love her...love her."
Before I Gaze At You Again
(GUENEVERE)
Before I gaze at you again
I'll need a time for tears.
Before I gaze at you again
Let hours turn to years.
I have so much forgetting to do
Before I try to gaze again at you.
Stay away until you cross my mind
Barely once a day.
Stay away until I wake and find
I can smile and say
That I shall gaze at you again
Without a blush or qualm,
My eyes will shine like new again,
My manner poised and calm,
No sign of fear, not even a sigh.
And so, till when we gaze again, goodbye!
Goodbye, goodbye!