[singing to Galavant and gay pub patrons]The Queen: Off with his shirt! That's the deal, you're our beefcake happy meal! Go on, you guys, just feast your eyes until they hurt. Off with his shirt, 'til the dawn! Dig the lush pectoral lawn! Drink in those lats and traps and delts - and after that who knows what else? So save some room, boys, for dessert! Oh, off with his shirt!
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