DOCTOR: Oh, my dear Dodo, my dear Dodo. You know you're fast becoming a prey to every cliche-ridden convention in the American West. And it's high time we left. Now, come along.

STEVEN: Thank goodness for that.

BALLAD: So fill up your glasses,

And join in the song.

The law's right behind you,

And it won't take long.

So come, you coyotes

And howl at the moon,

Till there's blood upon the sawdust,

In The Last Chance Saloon.

DOCTOR: Now don't be ridiculous. Doc Holliday's a great friend of mine. He gave me a gun, he extracted my tooth. Good gracious me, what more do you want?