| ARTHUR:
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| Each evening, from December to December,
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| Before you drift to sleep upon your cot,
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| Think back on all the tales that you remember
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| Of Camelot.
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| Ask ev’ry person if he’s heard the story,
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| And tell it strong and clear if he has not,
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| That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory
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| Called Camelot.
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| Camelot! |
| Camelot!
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| Now say it out with pride and joy!
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| TOM:
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| Camelot! |
| Camelot!
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| ARTHUR:
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| Yes, Camelot, my boy!
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| Where once it never rained till after sundown,
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| By eight a.m. the morning fog had flown…
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| Don’t let it be forgot
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| That once there was a spot
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| For one brief shining moment that was known
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| As Camelot. |