| A customer!
|
| Wait! |
| What’s your rush? |
| What’s your hurry?
|
| You gave me such a… fright!
|
| I thought you was a ghost!
|
| Half a minute, can’t ya sit?
|
| Sit ya down! |
| Sit!
|
| All I meant is that I haven’t seen a customer for weeks
|
| Did ya come here for a pie, sir?
|
| Do forgive me if me head’s a little vague
|
| What was that?
|
| But you’d think we’d have 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, sir, would you like a drop of ale?
|
| Mind you I can hardly blame them
|
| These are probably the worst pies in London
|
| I know why nobody cares to take them
|
| I should know
|
| I make 'em
|
| But good? |
| No…
|
| The worst pies in London…
|
| Even that’s polite! |
| The 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
|
| The worst pies in London
|
| And no wonder with the price of meat
|
| What it is
|
| When you get it
|
| Never thought I’d live to see the day
|
| Men’d think it was a treat findin' poor animals |
| What are dyin' 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!
|
| What I calls enterprise!
|
| Poppin' 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 pussycats is quick
|
| No denying times is hard, sir!
|
| Even harder than the 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! |