Each evening, from December to December,
Before you drift to sleep upon your cot,
Ask ev'ry person if he's heard the story,
And tell it strong and clear if he has not,
That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory
Now say it out with pride and joy!
Yes, Camelot, my boy!
Where once it never rained till after sundown,
By the morning fog had flown...
Don't let it be forgot
That once there was a spot
For one brief shining moment that was known