“[singing] I ask for nothing, I can get by / But I know so many less lucky than I / Please help my people, the poor and downtrod / I thought we all were the children of God / God help the outcasts, children of God.”
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“[singing] Now here is a riddle / To guess if you can / Sing the bells of Notre Dame / Who…”
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“Phoebus: Why is it, whenever we meet, I end up bleeding? Esmeralda: You're lucky. That…”