Pirelli:
I am Adolfo Pirelli,
Da king of da barbers,
Da barber of kings,
E buon giorno, good day,
I blow you a kiss!
And I, da so-famous Pirelli,
I wish-a to know-a
Who has-a da nerve-a to say
My elixir is piss!
Who says this?!

Todd:
...I do... I am Mr. Sweeney Todd of Fleet Street. I have
Opened a bottle of Pirelli’s elixir, and I say to you
That it is nothing but an errant fr aud, concocted fr om
Piss and ink. And furthermore—“Signor”—I have
Serviced no kings, yet I wager I can shave a cheek with
Ten times more dexterity than any street mountebank!

Pirelli:
You hear zis foolish man? Now, please, you will see
How he will regret his folly!

Todd:
Who’s for a fr ee shave? Will Beadle Bamford be
The judge?

Beadle:
Glad, as always, to oblige my fr iends and neighbors.
Th e fastest, smoothest shave is the winner.

Pirelli:
Now, signorini, signori,
We mix-a da lather
But fi rst-a you gather
Around, signorini, signori,
You looking a man
Who have had-a da glory
To shave-a da Pope!
Mr. Sweeney whoever—
I beg-a your pardon—’ll
Probably say it was only a cardinal—
Nope!
It was-a da Pope!
To shave-a da face,
To cut-a da hair,
Require da grace,
Require da fl air,
For if-a you slip,
You nick-a da skin,
You clip-a da chin,
You rip-a da lip a bit
Beyond-a repair!
To shave-a da face
Or even a part
Widout it-a smart
Require da heart.
Not just-a da fl ash,
It take-a panache,
It take-a da passion
For da art.
To shave-a da face,
To trim-a da beard,
To make-a da bristle
Clean like a whistle,
Dis is from early infancy
Da talent give to me
By God!
It take-a da skill,
It take-a da brains,
It take-a da will
To take-a da pains,
It take-a da pace,
It take-a da graaaaaace—

Beadle:
Th e winner is Todd!