The Prince and the Pauper Page #2

Run for it, boy!

Hang on, Mick! I'm comin'!

Oh, that's rich.

Now, I may be losing|my mind, Captain.

And I know that you've said|that time and time again...

but all I know is|he acted like a nobleman...

and he had the royal ring.

The ring?

So it was the prince|I booted out.

You threw out the prince?

# You're gonna get it #

Not if he doesn't|come back alive.

Take that!|Take that! And that!

Enter!

Oops!

Nice shot, sire.

Your Highness, your father|is in his last hours...

and wishes to see you at once.

We better tell the prince.|He'd want to see him.

You are the prince, sire.

I've been meaning|to talk to you about that.

Sire, he is gravely ill.

I'll explain everything.|The king'll understand.

- My son...|- Huh?

- Well, I'm not really the...|- Come closer.

My son, from the day|you were born...

I have tried to prepare you|for this moment.

I shall be gone soon...

and you will be king.

You must promise...

promise me that you will rule|the land from your heart...

justly and wisely.

I promise.

I gotta find the prince.

Good day, my phoney prince.

- Unhand me!|- Shut up!

Now that our dearly departed|king is out of my way...

you're gonna do|every little thing I say.

'Cause if you don't...'

- Pluto!|- Get the picture?

You there, what's happened?

The king is dead...

and the prince|is to be crowned at once!

Father...

Your soup's almost ready, Mick...

I mean, Your Majesty.

Now it's up to me to right|the wrongs I've seen...

children going hungry,|corruption everywhere.

Gawrsh, you really|are the prince, ain't ya?

Sire, your wish is my command.

Goofy, I owe you my life.

And this will not be forgotten.

Come, friend. We must return|to the palace at once...

For a visit to the dungeon,|my prince!

Get him, boys!

En garde!

Let me go, let me go, I say.|How dare you?

You'll pay for this, Captain!

I command you|to put me down right now!

After the pauper's crowned,|it will be adieu for you.

Let me out of here!

I'm the prince's valet!

Your Highness! Your Highness! We're saved!

Wait a minute.|You're in here, too.

We're doomed!

The coronation!

My lord.

This charade|has gone on long enough.

I demand that you open|this door immediately.

Shut up! Huh?

Well, looks like the boss|ain't wastin' any time.

Be my guest, pal.

Hey, what's the big idea?

Sorry.

You wouldn't happen|to have an axe I could borrow, would you?

Thank you.

I've had a lovely evening.

- Gawrsh.|- Goofy!

Just sit tight, little buddy.

I'll have you|outta there in a jiffy.

Be seated, sire.

After you.

No, no.|Beauty before age, sire.

Oh, no. Age before beauty.

Your Highness,|you're such a sport.

- Sit down!|- Got it.

Let me see. Was it|the skinny one or the round?

Maybe it was this little...

Get 'em, boys!

Gawrsh, that thing's sharp.

Oops.

It is both|my duty and pleasure...

to crown you...

I say,|you're a rather wiry lad.

So slippery.|Would you hold still?

- Stop!|- What the...?

Look, I'm the prince, right?

And whatever|I order must be done, right?

Uh... yes.

Well, then, the captain|is an insolent scoundrel.

Guards, seize him!

Seize him!|He's an impostor!

But I'm not, Captain!

Thank you, guardsman.

Oh, boy!

Wait a minute, Your Majesty.

I can explain everything.

Very well.|I await your explanation.

Your Majesty is too kind.

Look out, sire!

Geronimo!

Hold on, sire. I'll...

I got you now, you valet!

Fooled again, Captain!

Out of my way!

Oh, boy,|am I glad to see...

I mean, what a time I've...

Ah, but, you see, I...

Good heavens,|which one is which?

Pluto!

I guess there's|no fooling you, boy.

Therefore, I crown you|Prince of England...

I mean, King.|King of England.

# Everybody. Sing #

# A toast to the king #

- To the king!|- To the king!

# To His Majesty the King #

# I #

# Long live the king #

- Yeah!|- Gawrsh.

And so with|his loyal companions...

Mickey and Goofy|at his side...

the young king|ruled his happy country...

as he'd sworn he would...

with justice|and compassion for all.

Old Icky. If you recall.|was the country schoolmaster...

dreamed up|by Washington Irving.

He had a way with a yarn|did Mr Irving.

If we could|but journey back...

to that remote period|in American history...

when the city of Manhattan|was but a market town...

we would discover in the bosom|of one of those spacious coves

which indent the shores|of the Hudson...

the little village|of Tarrytown...

and just beyond...

nestled deep|in the low rolling hills...

a sequestered glen.

It's a quiet. PeacefuI place.|and yet somehow...

foreboding...

for it abounds|in haunted spots...

twilight tales.|and local superstitions.

The best-known story.|however...

concerns a certain|itinerant schoolmaster...

who once frequented|these parts.

Indeed. Some say|his melancholy spirit...

still haunts the vicinity.

The worthy pedagogue|was described...

as a most unusual man.

To see him striding along...

one might well mistake him|for some scarecrow...

eloped from a cornfield.

He was tall|and exceedingly lank.

His head was small|and flat on top...

with a long snipe nose...

so that it looked|like a weathercock...

perched|upon his spindle neck.

Altogether. Lhe was|such an apparition...

as is seldom to be seen|in broad daylight.

It was late one drowsy|autumn afternoon...

when this strange figure|first approached...

the tranquil little village|of Sleepy Hollow.

As usual.|there had foregathered...

at Ye Olde Schnooker|and Schnapps Shoppe...

a group of rustic lads known|as the Sleepy Hollow Boys.

Their self-appointed leader.|one Brom Bones...

was a burly.|roistering blade...

always ready for a fight|or a frolic.

And though Brom was much given|to madcap pranks...

and practical jokes...

still. There was no malice|in his mischief.

Indeed. With his waggish humour|and prodigious strength...

Brom Bones was quite the hero|of all the country 'round.

Odds bodkins! Gadzooks!

Look at that|old spook of spooks.

# Who's that comin'|down the street? #

# Are they shovels.|or are they feet? #

# Lean and lanky #

# Skin and bones #

# With clothes a scarecrow|would hate to own #

# Yet he has|a certain air #

# Debonair|and devil may care #

# It's the new|schoolmaster #

# What's his name? #

# Ichabod #

# Ichabod Crane #

# Ichabod #

# What a name #

# Kind of odd #

# But nice just the same #

# Funny pan. Funny frame #

# Ichabod.|Ichabod Crane #

# Ichabod may be quaint #

# May be odd|and maybe he ain't #

# Anyway.|there's no complaint #

# From Ichabod.|Ichabod Crane #

And though the arrival|of the pedagogue...

gave rise|to mixed emotions...

the townspeople all agreed|they'd never seen anyone...

# Like Ichabod.|Ichabod Crane #

The schoolroom|became Ichabod's empire...

over which|with lordly dignity...

he held absolute sway.

Truth to say. Ichabod|was a conscientious man...

and ever bore in mind|the golden maxim...

"Spare the rod|and spoil the child. "

Still. Lhe was carefuI|to administerjustice...

with discrimination.

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