Caption: England, 1747
(Sounds of a coach and horses, galloping)
Moore (John Cleese): Stand and deliver! Drop that gun!
(The coach comes to a halt. The drivers hold up their hands, but the postilion reaches for a gun. Moore shoots him.)
Moore: Let that be a warning to you all. You move at your peril, for I have two pistols here. I know one of them isn't loaded any more, but the other one is, so that's one of you dead for sure, or just about for sure anyway. It certainly wouldn't be worth your while risking it because I'm a very good shot. I practice every day, well, not absolutely every day, but most days in the week. I expect I must practice four or five times a week, at least four or five, only some weekends... like last weekend, there really wasn't the time, so that moved the average down a bit. I should say it's definitely a solid four days' practice every week... at least. I mean, I reckon I could hit that tree over there... the one just behind that hillock, not the big hillock, the little hillock on the left. You can see the three trees, the third one from the left and back a bit - that one - I reckon I could hit that four times out of five... on a good day. Say, with this wind... say, say seven times out of ten.
Squire (Terry Jones): What, that tree there?
Moore: Which one?
Squire: The big beech with the sort of bare branch coming out of the top left.
Moore: No, no, not that one.
Girl (Carol Cleveland): No, no, he means the one over there. Look, you see that one there?
Girl: Well now, go two along to the right.
Coachman: Just near that little bush.
Girl: Well it's the one just behind it.
Squire: Ah! The elm.
Moore: No, that's not an elm. Al elm's got sort of great clumps of leaves like that. That's either a beech or a... er... hornbeam.
Parson (Eric Idle): A hornbeam?
Moore: On no, not a hornbeam. What's the tree that has a leaf with sort of regular veins coming out and the veins go all the way out to the...
Moore: ...to the serrated edges.
Parson: A willow!
Moore: Yes, that's right.
Parson: That's nothing like a willow.
Moore: Well it doesn't matter, anyway. I can hit it seven times out of ten, that's the point.
Parson: Never a willow.
Moore: Shut up! This is a hold-up, not a botany lesson. Right! Now my fine friends, no false moves please. I want you to hand over all the lupins you've got.
Moore: Yes, lupins. Come on, come on.
Parson: What do you mean, lupins?
Moore: Don't try and play for time.
Parson: I'm not, you mean the flower lupin?
Moore: Yes, that's right.
Squire: Well we haven't got any lupins.
Moore: Look, my fine friends. I happen to know that this is the Lupin Express.
Squire: You must be out of your tiny mind.
Moore: Get out of the coach. Come on, get out!
(They exit the coach. Moore enters it and comes out with an armful of lupins.)
Moore: Just as I thought, not clever enough my fine friend. Come on, Concorde! (Gallops off)
Squire: Well, so much for the lupins.
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore, galloping through the sward,
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore, and his horse Concorde.
He steals from the rich and gives to the poor,
Mr Moore, Mr Moore, Mr Moore.
Continue to the next sketch... Dennis Moore Rides Again