Galavant, Galavant, Blah blah blah blah Galavant. I want her, need her, crave her, yes, it's true. But she is not the only thing I desperately want to do.
I want to shoot him with the crossbow. I want to stab him in the eye. I want to liberate his head from his neck, And then punt the bloody wreck sky high
I want to hurl him out a window, And shove explosives where the sun...don't...shine. Want to skewer him with swords and slowly twist 'em All around his reproductive system. Won't that be divine? Then she'll be mine.
Gareth: EVERYBODY SING!!
All: Ahhh... And then you'll do it ev'ry evening King Richard: Sweet God at last! All: In ev'ry room on ev'ry floor! King Richard: Till I can't do it anymore! Gareth: With no Galavant distracting your bride. King Richard: We could start a genocidal war! All: [indistinct] Man: Wait, what?
King Richard: I'll get back to all my hobbies, Like raising taxes and tormenting the poor All: Gosh(?), those poor! King Richard: No more "Galavant is just complete perfection!" Gal would never lose his....temper! Won't that be divine? And she'll be mine. All: La la la la! King Richard: Just mine, all mine! All: La la la la! King Richard: Mine, all mine, all mine!