Mrs. Lovett:
A customer!
Wait! What's yer rush?
What's yer hurry?
You gave me such a—
Fright. I thought you was a ghost.
Half a minute, can'tcher?
Sit!
Sit ye down!
Sit!
All I meant is that I
Haven't seen a customer for weeks.
Did you come in for a pie, sir?
Do forgive me if me head's a little vague—
What is that?
But you'd think we had the plague—
From the way that people—
Keep avoiding–
No you don't!
Heaven knows I try, sir!
But there's no one comes in even to inhale—
Right you are you are, sir. Would you like
A drop of ale?
Mind you, I can't hardly blame them—
Th ese are probably the worst pies in London.
I know why nobody cares to take them—
I should know,
I make them.
But good? No,
Th e worst pies in London—
Even that's polite.
Th e worst pies in London—
If you doubt it, take a bite.
Is that just disgusting?
You have to concede it.
It's nothing but crusting—
Here, drink this, you'll need it—
Th e worst pies in London.
And no wonder with the price of
Meat what it is—
When you get it.
Never
Th ough I'd live to see the day men'd
Think it was a treat
Finding poor
Animals
Wot are dying in the street.
Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop,
Does a business, but I notice something weird—
Lately all her neighbors' cats have disappeared.
Have to hand it to her—
Wot I calls
Enterprise,
Popping pussies into pies.
Wouldn't do in my shop—
Just the thought of it's enough to make you sick.
And I'm telling you them pussy cats is quick.
No denying times is hard, sir—
Even harder than
Th e worst pies in London.
Only lard and nothing more—
Is that just revolting?
All greasy and gritty,
It looks like it's molting,
And tastes like—
Well,... pity
A woman alone
With limited wind
And the worst pies in London!
Ah sir,
Times is hard. Times is hard.