All language subtitles for Deadwood.S01E12.720p.BluRay.x264-SiNNERS

My darling wife...

I have $68 put by...

Our belly cleaveth to the earth.

I hope to be home soon, Amanda.

I'll help with the cider pressing.

Our soul is
bowed down to the dust.

Tell Johnny to brew some coffee,
open some peaches.

- Who are they?
- It's that magistrate.

Some with soldier saddles.

- Al knew they was comin'.
- Well, he knew somethin' was comin'.

I'd about decided he just
couldn't sleep without Trixie.

General Crook bears
victory's garland

for having routed
the Miniconjou at Slim Buttes.

- Well done, General.
- The first meeting out of recompense

for the massacre at the Little Bighorn.

Am I right in believing that I saw you
last year in the Hills?

Amongst them you gave the boot to.

You said you'd see us back
once the treaty got amended.

The day the general
spoke of fast approaches.

Even now he's called to Camp Robinson...

I'm waitin' for Al to collect Clagett

by the scruff of the neck.

He and his men would require
some resupply and respite.

- Stopped at the right fuckin' place.
- Respite, Mr. Swearengen...

short of the men becoming dissolute
or drawn to desertion.

Unsaddled, allowed to gamble,
roll in the dust, hmm?

But not so they balk at reharness.

I'll make your feelings known
to the other operators.

I and my fellow officers would be
grateful now for the use of the bathhouse.

Mr. Burns here will steer you.

For those that avenged Custer,
if it ain't too dissolute,

the camp will want a parade.

A parade is all right.

Forego your bath a moment, Magistrate,

unless you want a girl
to sponge you while we converse?

So did young Adams deliver my message?

I haven't seen young Adams.

- No?
- I haven't been to Yankton.

I've been representing the Territory
in the treaty negotiations.

Well, as to bribing you further for help
with that warrant against me

beyond the $5,000
you've already pocketed,

the gist was "Fuck yourself."

- Do you now reconsider?
- No, Magistrate, I do not.

Not if you've seen Adams
or if you haven't seen Adams.

Well, that would be imprudent, Al...

a failure to properly value your freedom
in the promising days ahead.

Maybe you don't value keeping your
fucking guts inside your belly enough.

- Those are the days behind us.
- No,

those are the days to my fucking left.

I didn't generate the warrant.

My disappearance won't quash it.

You can't murder an order,

or the telegraph that transmitted it

or those that are content
to put food on the table

simply by being its instruments.

It can't be done.

Get the fuck out of my joint.

Although this may appear
to be a fortuitous accident...

you're not in this, Johnny Burns.

...I would be less than honest
if I did not admit that I was

in fact lying in wait,
in ambush, if you will.

- Sir, make your first effort count.
- Seconds away.

Now, General...

your most victorious smile.

All right,

stern and resolute!

This bloated tick Clagett,

feedin' on the neck
of the fucking military.

I guess he bought his bagman back.

Who I commissioned to kill him.

- He proclaims their paths never crossed.
- I guess he would.

Can you imagine, Al, that as mayor,

I might like to learn the cavalry's in camp

other than by coming upon them
posing for photographs

in the goddamn thoroughfare?!

Cavalry's in camp, EB.

- At whose behest?
- The people, as always.

- To what purpose?
- A parade's in the offing.

They've had a victory
over the dirt worshippers.

Will you lead the hosannas?

Well, I suppose that's
part of my mandate.

Mightn't I also coordinate satisfaction
of the force's logistical needs?

I hope you charge something
for your service.

Cavalry in camp, Doc.

May I number you in
the reception committee?

Fuck the cavalry and the committee
that receives 'em!

Hi, Doc.

The fuckin' magistrate don't
go back to Yankton alive.

Trixie.

Have you seen Jewel
around anywheres?

Common room, sweepin'.

Hey, Doc?

What you got in your tote sack?

Lettuce.

Set your broom
to one side and sit down.

I said put your broom aside.

You have to remove it
from my clutches.

Okay.

All right.

I make this stipulation:

You develop any stiffness
or numbness, you report these.

You do not conceal
these symptoms in order

to sustain your hopes
for the miraculous benefits

of your fucking boot.

That's my fuckin' boot?

You lose a leg, your other conditions will
prevent you from moving around at all,

and I will not have you lose
the mobility that you do have

for the sake of a few weeks' illusion.

I'll report stiffness or numbness.

All right.

And pain or discomfort!

Don't you be the doctor!

You report the symptoms,
I will determine their significance!

Don't yell, Doc!

I am yelling because I want to make sure
you goddamn understand me!

I do. I understand.

All right.

Here's your goddamn boot.

Help me put it on.

Walk in unannounced is a good way
to get yourself killed, Doc,

especially as the cavalry
has us besieged.

I'm here about the minister.

He's over at my place,

past my art if I had any.

He's damn near blind
and mostly paralyzed,

past controlling his functions.

Well, you're preaching
to the fucking converted. I mean...

I would've seen to him, but...

I've been fucking busy.

Well, he doesn't want
to be seen to like that.

What the fuck are we talking about?

A man being cared for

and made comfortable till he expires.

The girls you put to the task

deduct your time from my pay.

I get the bag of shit.

You get to care for a human being
in his last extremity.

A human being in his last
extremity is a bag of shit.

Oh, fuck you, Al!

I'll send someone over
to pick him up.

I made Jewel a brace and a boot.

Does it allay the fucking noise
she makes when she drags her leg about?

If the noise bothers you so much,
put cotton in your ears.

Get the fuck out of here, Doc, huh?

I'm working on my deployments
and flanking maneuvers.

How about that other one?

Trixie's fine.

Johnny!

Take the sled to Doc Cochran's.

Collect the fucking minister
and install him in the whore's quarters.

Tell that other one
to make up the fucking room.

Trixie?

These rags were fine broadcloth shirts
before I brung 'em to launder.

- Huh?
- Six... six bits...

No no. You told me...

Looks to me like
a deteriorating situation, sheriff.

Yup. Too frequent to be borne.
Downright intolerable.

Six bits a goddamn piece,
you hear me?

What the fuck you talking about?
Look at this goddamn shit. What is that?

I hope that slant-eyed cocksucker's look

ain't as arrogant close up
as it appears from this distance!

Smells like shit.

You Celestials are trying to wash
our shirts in goddamn feces!

Mining gold, Alma,
is a different business

from panning it in a stream.

The machinery involved, the wages...

it demands capital.

If, as seems clear,
you've determined to stay,

I could see after your
requirements in New York,

secure your holding's credit
as its Eastern representative.

Would that please you?

I... I don't know, Daddy.

- I'm not sure it would.
- Why not?

I'm not sure I can explain beyond

saying the prospect frightens me.

Must the pretense of
my behavior generating from...

paternal concern
be abandoned so quickly?

If you acknowledge
what else it generates from,

I'll not abandon the idea at all.

From my debts, of course.

You said they'd been
entirely satisfied.

They had, entirely, those debts.

These are debts
you hadn't admitted?

No, these are debts
I incurred subsequently.

We might call them the children
of the debts that I admitted to.

Generating from the interest
on the previous debts?

Alma...

watching you struggle
with what is beneath

your spirit to understand
is always painful for me.

After you got me out of debt,
I got myself back in.

Having volunteered
a promise you had...

wept and volunteered?

Conceive my own disappointment.

Oh, Daddy.

47,000, button.

47,000?

Has scale, doesn't it?

Certainly, there's something to that.

Who would give you
that much credit?

My daughter becoming a Garret
raised me in the lender's estimations.

I could borrow that much
against the claim?

In an instant,
and considerably more.

All right, Daddy.

But in consideration, you will...

remove yourself from further
connection to the venture.

I'll have that in writing
before I help you.

No, darling. You'll help me...

and you'll have no such thing.

Get away from her.

Get away from her!

The meal's on me, young lady.

Why, thank you, sir.

My friend Jane repaid some money
I thought never to see,

plus sent $2 some-odd
for Mrs. Garret to give that girl.

Fines she levied against herself
for saying "fuck" or the like.

Something amiss, Mrs. Garret?
Has the child took ill?

I'll give her the money later.

Seth.

What is it, Mrs. Garret?

- Seth, I've got to go do that... thing.
- What is it?

Whatever impression
my father has made on you,

please believe me, Mr. Bullock,

who has known him longer,
that he is here in his own interests,

and against mine and this child's.

I do.

And I need your help.

I'm asking for your help.

You have it.

Having confessed to the miserable
outcome of my commemorative effort,

I'll throw myself on General Crook's mercy
and ask for a second opportunity.

I'll be surprised
if he doesn't give it to you.

They love...
to have their pictures taken.

- What happened?
- Get away from me, Sol.

- What is it?
- Get away.

- Should I stay with her at the store?
- Please.

Antemeridian constitutional,
Mr. Russell,

or will we roll the bones again?

It must cost you sleep...

the guests you drive off,
the chances of thieving

and bilking you lose
needing to rub against your betters.

You and I are gonna talk.

You don't account
for my preferences, Mr. Bullock?

I will beat you here in the street.

First-rate thinking.

My daughter's agent beats
her father in the street...

how better to condemn Alma
to deepened suspicion

as to her role in
her husband's violent death

and widen suspicion to include yourself?

Shoot craps, Mr. Bullock?

I know what's in the till.

Were you bullied, Mr. Bullock,
when young and incapable?

Now you see wrongs everywhere
and bullying you feel called to remedy?

- 10, lay due.
- New shooter coming out.

The bully who oppressed your youth

isn't at the table with us.

- Perhaps he's long dead.
- Eight.

If you would view the present
with more clarity,

perhaps you'd recognize
that I'm not victimizing my daughter,

but merely asking for a small portion
of the ample proceeds...

- from her vein.
- Seven out.

Alma is hurt only
in your particular view of things.

10 again, lay due.

And while I'll sign
no guarantee not to return

or against any future claim
on her compassion,

realize I do hate it here.

And if you inhale and expel
pure righteousness,

my olfactories are keen
to the smell of shit.

- Six, the point is six.
- Having heard all that, and knowing,

as you must, the injudiciousness
of making an enemy of a man

who could testify truthfully
that five minutes before her marriage,

he heard his daughter wish
her prospective husband dead,

and who won't shrink from lying
as to what she admitted

to him on his arrival in this cesspool

as to her complicity
in her husband's murder...

I suppose you'd best take your swing.

Gentlemen, watch the felt.

Seth.

Seth!

Seth!

All right.

Leave this camp,

and draw a map for anyone who wants
to believe your fucking lies.

Anyone wants to put your daughter

or her holdings in jeopardy,
you show 'em how to get here.

And you tell 'em I'll be waiting.

Please...

see to my father.

Now, gentlemen, stay back!
This ain't no single-shot derringer.

He tried to blind me
with that lye, sheriff,

for showing what he done to my shirts.

- Fuck that monkey noise!
- All right, enough!

...till I can sort out
all the full particulars here.

You may be a big shot in this alley,
but you are less than a nigger to me!

Quiet!

Or you'll be subject to reprimand.

Take jurisdiction on this corpse!

Back off, old man.

The Sioux and the Cheyenne
having burned the prairie

to deny us fodder for our mounts,

our provisions limited
to what we could carry,

we turned for the Black Hills
when the rains began.

Where my bay mare Sheraton
foundered and got shot.

That march through mud
was a trial sent by God,

and harsh necessity required of us

much suffering and great sacrifice.

Ate our fucking horses!

Continuing south, we proved
our worth against the Indian.

We came upon a village

at Slim Buttes,

at once attacked from all four sides.

Their resistance was overcome.
There were no prisoners.

Paid 'em out man, woman and child
for me having to eat my mare.

And after the village was taken,
we found the gloves of Captain Keogh,

last seen on his person
when he rode into battle...

with the valiant Custer.

Captain.

This is the guidon of the 7th Cavalry,

captured by the Sioux
at the Little Bighorn

and now reclaimed by white men!

Chief American Horse and his village

are gone, driven off.

From this day forward...

- Where's the cunt?
- ...any Sioux who will not make peace

- at Camp Robinson...
- I'm glad you witnessed that transaction

amongst the Celestials.

You know, they'll bow and scrape
till six of 'em get together,

then no fucking white man's safe.

...to the progress
of the United States...

of which I am certain

this camp

will soon be a part.

Huzzah!

Huzzah!

Next murder you do on an errand,

you gotta take off the fucking badge.

Not certain I take your inference.

And if I do, I'm not sure I like it.

Leave it there,
you bought-out son of a bitch.

Captain Bubb is the quartermaster
and commissary officer.

- Should he deal with you?
- Exclusively.

- EB Farnum...
- That's Captain Bubb.

...mayor. And as to procurement
of everything listed,

your civilian counterpart.

General Crook, I believe
I have you verbatim, but if you'll just

- grant me a moment to confirm?
- Oh my God.

Um, "The Sioux and Cheyenne...

...will soon be a part."

You'll find this hotel
the least of all evils.

Does it belong to that mayor?

Yes, but I can check you in.

General, Cyrus Tolliver.

Small gesture of gratitude,
I'd like you to quarter at my place.

Brothel.
Excuse me.

Well, that portion to my use would have
to be closed to other purposes.

Well, that'd make it
a large gesture, but, uh,

we'll work something out.

- Send my trunk, Captain Bubb.
- Yes, sir.

This is a tremendous number
of provisions, Captain.

But, of course, you're
buying for full-grown men.

I won't do a two on one.

Take turns like white men.

I don't care if the whole
US Cavalry walks in here,

you don't want to pour another drink.
You just want to listen to me,

'cause if the man doesn't die
whose face I just broke,

he's gonna go to New York City

and tell Brom Garret's people
it breaks his heart to say so,

but his daughter
had their son murdered.

He'll tell 'em, knowing how he does
they won't want their son's

rightful property in the hands
of the woman who killed him.

He'll swear to what
he heard from her own lips.

And those society people
in New York City,

who live with their heads up
their asses anyway, will believe him.

And whoever they send out here
may take up to 15 minutes

before they decide, being you were
involved in the transaction first to last,

it must have been you
and your boss she hired

to push her idiot husband off the cliff.

Of course, they'll be wrong
about Mrs. Garret,

but they'll be right as rain
about you two cocksuckers.

You tell him all that upstairs.

If he don't die.

If he don't die.

I don't think I killed him.

Just so I understand you,

if he don't die,

you're saying the man's luck
don't have to hold out.

Now that's the message
you want me to take upstairs.

I don't swim in that shit.

You ought to pin that
on your chest.

You're hypocrite enough to wear it.

You just tell him.

When did you start thinking
every wrong had a remedy, Wu?

Did you come to camp for justice

or to make your fucking way?!

I'm sensing
you've done things today

you wish you could amend, Seth.

What kind of a man
have I become, Sol?

I don't know.

The day ain't fucking over.

Under what provocation
was that clown-hatted card-sharp

when he slaughtered the Chink?

I was head down, Al,
towing that minister like a canal mule.

Well, in the aftermath,
when you raised your fucking head,

did Stapleton act like
a fucking frightened man?

More strutting like a dunghill rooster.

Put-up fucking job.

That fucknut Tolliver's
moving on Chinatown.

That devious fucknut.

Far as this matter Bullock
commended to our attention...?

Well, it's the exact type murder
you preach, Al.

Head off trouble down the road.

You head off trouble down the road
once you've dealt with the trouble on it.

The trouble on the road, Dan,

is Al's enemy Magistrate Clagett's
cozy-seeming connection to the military.

If genuine, Al must decide
ought he seek some alliance with Clagett,

however temporary
or dissembled?

At least until you're paid
for the army's order.

They're all in the same fucking place.
Tolliver, the widow's father, Clagett...

I can take care of all of 'em
in one fell swoop.

What about half of the cavalry
while your talons are out, huh?

I'll tell you, by God, you cut
that fucking general's throat,

you'll... you'll hurry
the pace of desertion.

Did I say something funny?

That cocksucker Clagett's bagman.

Moderation in all things.

Thank you, thank you, sir.

- Much obliged.
- Good luck.

With all respect to
the Magistrate Clagett, General,

eager as we are to get taken into
the Territory, those wheels grind slow,

while every day
in this camp and environs

tens of thousands of dollars in gold
get cleaned up and put into circulation.

It's an environment
to test the moral mettle

if we was all members of some
religious organization.

Which we ain't.

Are we sure we can't tempt you?

I'm sure.

A small fraction of your
detachment left behind,

a dozen or 18 men, say,

would keep the criminal
element in check.

Cash compensation, unrecorded.

To defend against threats from without,
I suggest the camp create a militia.

For civil disorders
and property disagreements,

- have you hired a sheriff?
- Yeah, we got one.

Did you say to me earlier, Mr. Tolliver,

that you imagined that the chief use
of the military presence

was to buttress the sheriff's authority?

Such indirection
for such a tawdry purpose.

$50,000 in gold.

I want those soldiers, General.

Is that direct enough?

May I speak?

Mr. Bullock.

I was a marshal in Montana.

My father served
in the British Royal Army,

and my brother Robert
was a cavalryman

killed fighting
the Comancheros in Texas.

Why are you here, Mr. Bullock?

A man named Otis Russell
is laid up in this establishment.

- He needs protection.
- Protection from whom?

Several in this camp.

I beat him badly.

Others have reason
to wish him dead

and the camp sheriff can be bought off
for half a can of bacon grease.

Well, while we're here,

I will hold Mr. Russell
under protection

as a gesture to your
brother's sacrifice.

Thank you, sir.

I would add, in a camp

where the sheriff can be
bought for bacon grease,

a man, a former marshal

who understands the danger
of his own temperament,

might consider serving his fellows.

May I have a word, General?

I'm through. Thank you.

We all have bloody thoughts.

Captain Bubb?

That gopher-faced merchant's agent,
he's trying for our eye-teeth, General.

I'd rather reprovision
with the fucking Sioux.

I have three men under guard
for burying their uniforms

- and five for bartering their weapons.
- Bartering them for what?

Women, credit at the tables
and prospecting tools.

God damn it.

Form up the men.

We'll bivouac tonight
outside of camp.

At daylight we head
for Camp Robinson.

Please allow me to seek remedy
in the manner of resupply, General.

We move for Camp Robinson, Magistrate,
with or without your company.

I quite understand.

12 men, General. $50,000.

If I were sheriff
I'd have you hanged.

I brought these.

Are these my father's?

Collected off the Bella Union floor.

Maybe model replacements after,

maybe just remind him
not to run his mouth.

Miss Stubbs, will you
please come in?

Oh, all right.

Joanie!

Hi, sweetheart.

He will live though,
that seems clear?

Seems he will.

Mr. Bullock was my agent in this.

On our way from
Syracuse to Indiana

so my daddy could try farming,

my mama got cholera and died.

He didn't make any better
a farmer than millinery clerk,

but he had a way enough
with words to get me believing

that my mama in heaven
wanted me to see to his needs.

And then to add
to the egg money by...

seeing to the men he brought.
And she wanted me

talking my sisters into seeing
to his needs, and then to the men,

till he sold me to Cy Tolliver.

If he was here, I'd wish a beating
mornings and evenings on my daddy

like your pa took today.

Oh.

Evening.

Good evening, Mr. Bullock.

Are you hungry, honey?

Why don't we go down
to that little restaurant

and have some dinner?

Um, uh... Sofia.

You go with Miss Stubbs
for dinner, okay?

Would you like
to sit down, Mr. Bullock?

Until your father's
well enough to travel,

I've asked General Crook
to see to his safety.

Thank you.

If he were to leave once he's well
and return to act against your interests,

we'll deal with that then.

I stand before you a married man.

Yes.

To your brother's widow,

after he was killed.

You took their five-year-old boy
as your own son.

Married.

Yes.

If you'd... if you would be more
comfortable behind the screen...

Wouldn't that defeat our purpose?

Young Adams.

No satchel? No case?

Don't tell me you shrunk
that magistrate's head,

so you can carry it
around in your coat.

And that warrant
against me now quashed

is peeking out of his tiny mouth?

I didn't get the chance to kill him.

He'd left Yankton by the time I got there
and I figured I'd catch him here.

Maybe you're here to implement
his fucking intentions against me.

I guess you chew at it awhile, you could
work out how it could be that way.

Having given me time as he has
to escape my angry mood,

if I continue to ignore
his fucking extortions.

Is that how you left it with him?

He's coming back here to see you?

Give you time to make up
which side you're on, Adams...

if the cocksucker
would ever show up.

For that which I do,
I allow not for...

what I would that I do not, for...

Get out.

But what I hate, that too, I...

Now,

if I would do
what I would not,

it is no more I that do it,

but sin that dwelleth in me.

Johnny.

Shut the door.

If I was a more
adaptable primate

or one of your regular petitioners,

I suspect I wouldn't feel this pain.

I guess I...

I'd have a wad of cartilage
covering the patella,

protecting me from this...

this discomfort.

Jesus Christ.

Jesus Christ,

just please, God,

take that minister.

What conceivable

godly use

is his protracted suffering to you?

What conceivable godly use?

What conceivable godly use

was the screaming
of all those men?

Did you... did you need to hear
their death agonies

to know Your-Your...
Your omnipotence?

"Mama!"
"Mother, find my arm!"

"Mommy!

Mommy!

Mommy!"

"They... they shot my leg off!"

"It hurts so bad.

It hurts so bad."

Admitting my understanding's
imperfection,

trusting that you have a purpose,

praying that you consider it served,

I beg you to relent.

Thy will be done. Amen.

- Oh oh oh...
- Shhh.

Shhh.

You want to be a road agent?

Deal out death when called upon?

Make a proper seal,

stop up the breath,

apply pressure even and firm,

like packing a snowball.

You can go now, brother.

Al...

that... magistrate's here.

I got those other two guys
waiting upstairs.

Join 'em.

Get the sled for him, huh?

Things are in the saddle, Al.

Tell me what you mean
upstairs, huh?

Adams... your employee

and his butler.

Yes, how are you, Adams?

I'm all right, sir.
We missed each other in Yankton.

Yes, I was in the company
of General Crook.

Adams bore you my message
to try fucking yourself.

And here he is in your office.

Well, I figured
I'd catch up with you here.

Do you no longer
serve his interests

is what he seems to wonder.

Adams, for his part,
is stone-featured,

steeled in his purpose.

- Which he'd be...
- Wherever his allegiance may lay.

Well, be that as it may, Magistrate,

living as we all do in doubt,
please proceed.

General Crook's at the point
of making a decision

whether to garrison
some number of soldiers here

or to leave the camp
to find its own way.

I understand your strong
preference in this regard.

You must understand
that for whatever reason

General Crook has come to trust me

and rely on my counsel exclusively.

The appropriate gesture
made by you toward me

would lead me
to dissuade the general

from the garrison option,

as well as clear away from above

the cloud of uncertainty

regarding your personal liabilities,

namely the incident in Chicago.

You have the document
of inquiry from Chicago?

The murder warrant.
Yes, Al, I do.

- On your person?
- Yes.

Make the appropriate gesture,

and the constable hand of the past

will no longer weigh upon you.

What man couldn't
that be said about?

I'd be happy to give you this paper

when you take that fucking gun off me.

Both of them.

Swaddle the cocksucker
and dispose of him.

His money and effects are yours.

That don't count towards the 2,000.

No, I still owe you the two.

Crook's troops are mustering.

I didn't think your father
would have to travel so soon.

I don't begrudge him
an uncomfortable journey.

I'll see him secured.

And after that, he's on his own.

Doc! Doc!

It's your competition.

Or is that one of
your fucking heresies?

He passed.

Lemme help you bring him inside.

You're a wily cocksucker, huh?

Waited till I got him
off the sled, huh?

I would have let him lay in state,
but I need the room for my whores.

Thanks for seeing him through.

Are you gonna probe in his noggin
now to see what went amiss?

No, not tonight.

Tonight, I plan to drink in.

Announcing your plans

is a good way to hear God laugh.

I told him, but we ain't had time
to act on your request yet.

Yeah, I know.

It's been a busy night.

- Bullock, what is it?
- We need to talk.

Right. Yeah, okay.

Doc, I'm gonna be
a few minutes, huh?

See this man gets his shine, huh?

Come on.

Hi, Doc.

How you doing?

No stiffness or numbness.

Uh, let me see you
move around a bit.

That'll give you a shine.

How do I look?

How do you feel's
the goddamn question.

I feel good.

Well, good.

Hey, Doc.
Give me a whirl.

No no.

Come on, I'll teach you how.

No no no no no no.
No, I won't, um... no.

There's a bloodstain on your floor.

Yeah, I'm... I'm gonna get to that.

Crook's forces in full retreat.

Taking Mrs. Garret's father with 'em.

Up and about so quick.

- He's slung over a mule.
- Alive is my point.

Dority give me to understand

you'd just as soon
as seen him dead.

If that man comes
back to the camp,

he'd be my problem to deal with.

The way you and Hickok
dealt with Ned Mason?

No.

I'll be the fucking sheriff.

Starting when?

Starting now.

- You have the tin?
- I do.

Produce it.

On the tit.

I know where it goes.

Huzzah.

Hey, General!
You son of a bitch!

Wow-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh!

Wooh! Ha ha ha ha ha!

You know, I've never spoken to her
once since she come to camp.

You reckon that's another reason
not to kill her old man,

besides whatever's going on
between the two of you?

Yeah.

Anyways, Sheriff,

I'm gonna walk past that bloodstain
that mysteriously appeared

and go oversee my business interests.

Take your time.

Say "I'm as nimble
as a forest creature."

You're as nimble
as a forest creature.

No, say it about yourself.

I'm as nimble
as a forest creature.

♪ When we see Jesus
coming in glory ♪

♪ When He comes
from His home in the sky ♪

♪ Then we shall meet Him
in that bright mansion ♪

♪ We'll understand it all,
by and by ♪

♪ Farther along
we will know all about it ♪

♪ Farther along we will
understand why ♪

♪ Cheer up, my brother,
live in the sunshine ♪

♪ We'll understand it all,
by and by. ♪