CAMELOT

PAROLES DES CHANSONS DE "CAMELOT"

(Frederick Loewe)

I WONDER WHAT THE KING IS DOING TONIGHT

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.
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SIMPLE JOYS OF MAIDENHOOD

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 st'll,
Cause a little war?
Where are the simple joys of maidenhood?

Are those 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?
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CAMELOT

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.

C'EST MOI

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

It's May!
The lusty month of May!
That lovely month when everyone 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 everywhere?
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! 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,
Everyone breaks.
Everyone makes divine mistakes
The lusty month of May!

FOLLOW ME

HOW TO HANDLE A WOMAN

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.

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 tremendous
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 relative 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 can 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 Dinadan!
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 DINADAN
Your Majesty can't believe this blustering 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 DINADAN
I'll vivisect him.

GUENEVERE
You'll open-wide him?

SIR DINADAN
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

SIRS LIONEL, SAGRAMORE, DINADAN
Milady, we shall put an end to that Galic bag of noise and nerve
When we do all that we intend to
He'll be a plate of French hors d'ouvres!

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 go to the ball, to the show
And take me to the fair

IF EVER I WOULD LEAVE YOU

If ever I would leave you
It wouldn't be in summer.
Seeing you in summer I never would go.
Your hair streaked with sun-light,
Your lips red as flame,
Your face witha lustre
that puts gold to shame!

But if I'd ever leave you,
It couldn't be in autumn.
How I'd leave in autumn I never will know.
I've seen how you sparkle
When fall nips the air.
I know you in autumn
And I must be there.

And could I leave you
running merrily through the snow?

Or on a wintry evening
when you catch the fire's glow?

If ever I would leave you,
How could it be in spring-time?
Knowing how in spring I'm bewitched by you so?
Oh, no! not in spring-time!
Summer, winter or fall!
No, never could I leave you at all!

WHAT DO THE SIMPLE FOLK DO?

GUENEVERE
What do the simple folk do
To help them escape when they're blue?
The shepard who is ailing, the milkmaid who is glum
The cobbler who is wailing from nailing his thumb
When they're beset and besieged
The folk not noblessly obliged
However do they manage to shed their weary lot?
Oh, what do simple folk do we do not?

ARTHUR
I have been informed by those who know them well
They find relief in quite a clever way
When they're sorely pressed, they whistle for a spell
And whistling seems to brighten up their day
And that's what simple folk do
So they say

GUENEVERE
They whistle?
ARTHUR
So they say

GUENEVERE
What else do the simple folk do
To pluck up the heart and get through?
The wee folk and the grown folk
Who wander to and fro
Have ways known to their own folk
We throne folk don't know
When all the doldrums begin
What keeps each of them in his skin?
What ancient native custom provides the needed glow?
Oh, what do simple folk do?
Do you know?

ARTHUR
Once, upon the road, I came upon a lad
Singing in a voice three times his size
When I asked him why, he told me he was sad
And singing always made his spirits rise
And that's what simple folk do
I surmise

GUENEVERE
They sing?

ARTHUR
I surmise

ENSEMBLE
Arise, my love, arise, my love
Apollo's lighting the skies, my love
The meadows shine with columbine
And daffodils blossom away
Hear Venus call to one and all
And taste delight while you may
The world is bright and all is right
And life is merry and gay

GUENEVERE
What else do the simple folk do?
They must have a system or two
They obviously outshine us at turning tears to mirth
And tricks a royal highness is minus from birth
What, then, I wonder, do they
To chase all the goblins away?
They have some tribal sorcery you haven't mentioned yet
Oh, what do simple folk do to forget?

ARTHUR
Often, I am told, they dance a fiery dance
And whirl 'till they're completely uncontrolled
Soon the mind is blank and oh, they\'re in a trance
A violent trance astounding to behold
And that's what simple folk do
So I'm told

GUENEVERE
They dance?

ARTHUR
So I'm told

GUENEVERE
What else do the simple folk do
To help them escape when they're blue?

ARTHUR
They sit around and wonder what royal folk would do
And that\'s what simple folk do

GUENEVERE
Oh, no, really

ARTHUR
I have it on the best authority.

ENSEMBLE
Yes, that's what simple folk do

I LOVED YOU ONCE IN SILENCE

I loved you once in silence
And mis'ry was all I knew.
Trying so to keep my love from showing,
All the while not knowing you loved me too.
Yes, loved me in lonesome silence;
Your heart filled with dark despair.
Thinking love would flame in you forever,
And I'd never, never know the flame was there.
Then one day we cast away our secret longing;
The raging tide we held inside would hold no more.
The silence at last was broken!
We flung wide our prison door.
Ev'ry joyous word of love was spoken.

And now there's twice as much grief,
Twice the strain for us;
Twice the despair,
Twice the pain for us
As we had known before.

And after all had been said,
Here we are, my love,
Silent once more,
And not far, my love,
From where we were before.

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