• MRS. LOVETT:
    Seems a downright shame...
    TODD: Shame?
    LOVETT:
    Seems an awful waste...
    Such a nice, plump frame
    Wot's 'is name has...
    Had...
    Has!
    Nor it can't be traced...
    Bus'ness needs a lift,
    Debts to be erased...
    Think of it as thrift,
    As a gift,
    If you get my drift!

    No?

    Seems an awful waste...
    I mean, with the price of meat
    What it is,
    When you get it,
    If you get it...

    TODD: HAH!
    LOVETT:
    Good, you got it!

    Take, for instance, Mrs. Mooney and her pie shop!
    Bus'ness never better using only pussycats and toast!
    And a pussy's good for maybe six or seven at the most!
    And I'm sure they can't compare as far as taste!

    [Simultaneously]

    TODD:
    Mrs. Lovett, what a charming notion
    LOVETT:
    Well, it does seem a waste...

    TODD:
    Eminently practical
    And yet appropriate as always!
    LOVETT:
    It's an idea...

    TODD:
    Mrs. Lovett, how I've lived
    Without you all these years, I'll never know!
    How delectable!
    Also undetectable!
    LOVETT:
    Think about it!
    Lots of other gentlemen'll
    Soon be comin' for a shave,
    Won't they?
    Think of
    All them
    Pies!

    TODD:
    How choice!

    How
    Rare!

    TODD:
    For what's the sound of the world out there?
    LOVETT:
    What, Mr. Todd?
    What, Mr. Todd?
    What is that sound?
    TODD:
    Those crunching noises pervading the air!
    LOVETT:
    Yes, Mr. Todd!
    Yes, Mr. Todd!
    Yes, all around!
    TODD:
    It's man devouring man, my dear!
    BOTH:
    And [LOVETT: Then] who are we to deny it in here?

    TODD: (spoken) These are desperate times,
    Mrs. Lovett, and desperate measures are called for!
    LOVETT: Here we are, now! Hot out of the oven!
    TODD: What is that?

    LOVETT:
    It's priest. Have a little priest.
    TODD:
    Is it really good?
    LOVETT:
    Sir, it's too good, at least!
    Then again, they don't commit sins of the flesh,
    So it's pretty fresh.
    TODD:
    Awful lot of fat.
    LOVETT:
    Only where it sat.
    TODD:
    Haven't you got poet, or something like that?
    LOVETT:
    No, y'see, the trouble with poet is
    'Ow do you know it's deceased?
    Try the priest!

    TODD: (spoken) Heavenly!
    Not as hearty as bishop, perhaps,
    but then again, not as bland as curate, either!

    LOVETT:
    And good for business, too -- always leaves you wantin' more!
    Trouble is, we only get it on Sundays!

    Lawyer's rather nice.
    TODD:
    If it's for a price.
    LOVETT:
    Order something else, though, to follow,
    Since no one should swallow it twice!
    TODD:
    Anything that's lean.
    LOVETT:
    Well, then, if you're British and loyal,
    You might enjoy Royal Marine!
    Anyway, it's clean.
    Though of course, it tastes of wherever it's been!
    TODD:
    Is that squire,
    On the fire?
    LOVETT:
    Mercy no, sir, look closer,
    You'll notice it's grocer!
    TODD:
    Looks thicker,
    More like vicar!
    LOVETT:
    No, it has to be grocer --
    It's green!

    TODD:
    The history of the world, my love --
    LOVETT:
    Save a lot of graves,
    Do a lot of relatives favors!
    TODD:
    Is those below serving those up above!
    LOVETT:
    Ev'rybody shaves,
    So there should be plenty of flavors!
    TODD:
    How gratifying for once to know
    BOTH:
    That those above will serve those down below!

    LOVETT: (spoken) Now let's see, here... We've got tinker.
    TODD: Something... pinker.
    LOVETT: Tailor?
    TODD: Paler.
    LOVETT: Butler?
    TODD: Subtler.
    LOVETT: Potter?
    TODD: Hotter.
    LOVETT: Locksmith?

    Lovely bit of clerk.
    TODD:
    Maybe for a lark.
    LOVETT:
    Then again there's sweep
    If you want it cheap
    And you like it dark!
    Try the financier,
    Peak of his career!
    TODD:
    That looks pretty rank.
    LOVETT:
    Well, he drank,
    It's a bank
    Cashier.
    Never really sold.
    Maybe it was old.
    TODD:
    Have you any Beadle?
    LOVETT:
    Next week, so I'm told!
    Beadle isn't bad till you smell it and
    Notice 'ow well it's been greased...
    Stick to priest!

    (spoken) Now then, this might be a little bit stringy,
    but then of course it's... fiddle player!
    TODD: No, this isn't fiddle player -- it's piccolo player!
    LOVETT: 'Ow can you tell?
    TODD: It's piping hot!
    LOVETT: Then blow on it first!

    TODD:
    The history of the world, my sweet --
    LOVETT:
    Oh, Mr. Todd,
    Ooh, Mr. Todd,
    What does it tell?
    TODD:
    Is who gets eaten, and who gets to eat!
    LOVETT:
    And, Mr. Todd,
    Too, Mr. Todd,
    Who gets to sell!
    TODD:
    But fortunately, it's also clear
    BOTH:
    That [L: But] ev'rybody goes down well with beer!

    LOVETT: (spoken)
    Since marine doesn't appeal to you, 'ow about... rear admiral?
    TODD: Too salty. I prefer general.
    LOVETT: With, or without his privates? "With" is extra.

    TODD: What is that?
    LOVETT:
    It's fop.
    Finest in the shop.
    And we have some shepherd's pie peppered
    With actual shepherd on top!
    And I've just begun --
    Here's the politician, so oily
    It's served with a doily,
    Have one!
    TODD:
    Put it on a bun.
    Well, you never know if it's going to run!
    LOVETT:
    Try the friar,
    Fried, it's drier!
    TODD:
    No, the clergy is really
    Too coarse and too mealy!
    LOVETT:
    Then actor,
    That's compacter!
    TODD:
    Yes, and always arrives overdone!
    I'll come again when you have JUDGE on the menu!

    LOVETT: (spoken) Wait! True, we don't have judge yet,
    but we've got something you might fancy even better.
    TODD: What's that?
    LOVETT: Executioner!

    TODD:
    Have charity towards the world, my pet!
    LOVETT:
    Yes, yes, I know, my love!
    TODD:
    We'll take the customers that we can get!
    LOVETT:
    High-born and low, my love!
    TODD:
    We'll not discriminate great from small!
    No, we'll serve anyone,
    Meaning anyone,
    BOTH:
    And to anyone
    At all!

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  • There are few who'd deny, at what I do I am the best
    For my talents are renowned far and wide
    When it comes to surprises in the moonlit night
    I excel without ever even trying
    With the slightest little effort of my ghostlike charms
    I have seen grown men give out a shriek
    With the wave of my hand, and a well-placed moan
    I have swept the very bravest off their feet

    Yet year after year, it's the same routine
    And I grow so weary of the sound of screams
    And I, Jack, the Pumpkin King
    Have grown so tired of the same old thing

    Oh, somewhere deep inside of these bones
    An emptiness began to grow
    There's something out there, far from my home
    A longing that I've never known

    I'm a master of fright, and a demon of light
    And I'll scare you right out of your pants
    To a guy in Kentucky, I'm Mister Unlucky
    And I'm known throughout England and France

    And since I am dead, I can take off my head
    To recite Shakespearean quotations
    No animal nor man can scream like I can
    With the fury of my recitations

    But who here would ever understand
    That the Pumpkin King with the skeleton grin
    Would tire of his crown, if they only understood
    He'd give it all up if he only could

    Oh, there's an empty place in my bones
    That calls out for something unknown
    The fame and praise come year after year
    Does nothing for these empty tears


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  • A clouded dream on an earthly night
    Hangs upon the crescent moon
    A voiceless song in an ageless light
    Sings at the coming dawn
    Birds in flight are calling there
    Where the heart moves the stones
    It's there that my heart is longing
    All for the love of you

    A painting hangs on an ivy wall
    Nestled in the emerald moss
    The eyes declare a truce of trust
    Then it draws me far away
    Where deep in the desert twilight
    Sand melts in pools of the sky
    Darkness lays her crimson cloak
    Your lamps will call me home

    And so it's there my homage's due
    Clutched by the still of the night
    Now I feel you move
    And every breath is full
    So it's there my homage's due
    Clutched by the still of the night
    Even the distance feels so near
    All for the love of you

    A clouded dream on an earthly night
    Hangs upon the crescent moon
    A voiceless song in an ageless light
    Sings at the coming dawn
    Birds in flight are calling there
    Where the heart moves the stones
    It's there that my heart is longing
    All for the love of you


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  • I have often dreamed,

    Of a far off place.

    Where a hero's welcome,

    Would be waiting for me.

    Where the crowds will cheer when they see my face,

    And this voice keeps saying this is where I'm meant to be.

    I'll be there someday,

    I can go the distance.

    I will find my way,

    If I can be strong.

    I know every mile,

    Will be worth my while.

    When I go the distance,

    I'll be right where I belong.

    An un-gone road,

    To embrace my fate.

    I will only wonder,

    Will it lead me to you ?

    And a thousand years,

    Would be the wait.

    It might take a lifetime,

    But somehow I'll see it through.

    And I won't look back,

    I can go the distance.

    And I'll stay on track,

    No I won't accept defeat.

    It's an angel's woe,

    But I won't lose hope.

    'Till I go the distance,

    And my journey is complete.

    But to look beyond the glory is the hardest part,

    A hero's only measured by his heart.

    Like a shooting star,

    I will go the distance.

    I will search the World,

    I will face it's haunts.

    I don't care how far,

    I can go the distance.

    'Till I find my hero's welcome,

    Waiting in your arms.

    I will search the World,

    I will face it's haunts.

    'Till I find my hero's welcome,

    Waiting in your arms.


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