[the Johnsons load their guns and point them at Bart. Bart then points his own pistol at his head] Hold it! Next man makes a move, the nigger gets it!
Hold it, men. He's not bluffing.
Listen to him, men, he's just crazy enough to do it!
Drop it! Or I swear I'll blow this nigger's head all over this town!
Oh, lo'dy, lo'd, he's despit! Do what he sayyyy, do what he sayyyy...
Isn't anybody going to help that poor man?
Hush, Harriet, that's a sure way to get him killed!
Oooh! He'p me, he'p me! Somebody he'p me! He'p me! He'p me! He'p me!
Shut up!
Ooh, baby, you are so talented! And they are so DUMB!

Go do that voodoo that you do so well!

Is that a ten-gallon hat, or are you just enjoying the show?

A wed wose, how womantic.

I must have killed more men than Cecil B. DeMille.

Are we awake?
We're not sure. Are we black?
Yes, we are.
Then we're awake, but very puzzled.

Here I stand, the goddess of desire / Set men on fire / I have this power. / Morning, noon, and night, it's dwink and dancing / Some quick womancing / And then a shower. / Stage door Johnnies constantly suwwound me / They always hound me, with one wequest. / Who can satisfy their lustful habits? / I'm not a wabbit.

Now is a time of great decision / Are we to stay or up and quit? / There's no avoiding this conclusion: / Our town is turning into shit. Amen

Mornin', ma'am. And isn't it a lovely mornin'?
Up yours nigger.

I'm tired of men always coming and going, going and coming and always too soon.
Right, girls?

Stampeding cattle.
That's not much of a crime.
Through the Vatican?
Kinky. Sign here.

Hello, cowboy. Wha's your name?
Tex, Ma'am.
Texmam? Well, tell me Texmam, are you in show business?
Well, no, ma'am.
Then why don't you get your fwiggin' feet off o' the stage.

I wash born here, an I wash raished here, and dad gum it, I am gonna die here, an no sidewindin bushwackin, hornswaglin, cracker croaker is gonna rouin me bishen cutter.

Dang, that was lucky. Doggone near lost a four hundred dollar handcart.