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!

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