Lyrics Poor Thing - Stephen Sondheim

Poor Thing

There was a barber and his wife
And he was beautiful
A proper artist with a knife
But they transported him for life
And he was beautiful
Barker, his name was.
Benjamin Barker
Transported?
What was his crime?
Foolishness…
He had this wife, y’see
Pretty little thing
Silly little nit
Had her chance for the moon on a string
Poor thing!
Poor thing!
There were these two, y’see
Wanted her like mad!
One of 'em a judge, t’other one his beadle!
Every day they’d nudge and they’d wheedle!
But she wouldn’t budge from her needle!
Too bad
Pure thing
So they merely shipped the poor blighter off south, they did
Leaving 'er with nothing but grief and a year-old kid!
Did she use her head even then?
Oh no, God forbid!
Poor fool!
Ah, but there was worse yet to come
Poor thing!
Johanna… That was the child’s name, pretty little Johanna
Go on
My, you do like a good story, don’t you?
Well, Beadle calls on her all polite
Poor thing!
Poor thing!
The judge, he tells her, is all contrite
He blames himself for her dreadful plight
She must come straight to his house tonight!
Poor thing!
Poor thing!
Of course when she goes there
Poor thing
Poor thing!
They’re having this ball all in masks
There’s no one she knows there
Poor dear
Poor thing!
She wonders, tormented and drinks
Poor thing!
The judge has repented, she thinks
Poor thing!
«Oh, where is Judge Turpin?»
she asks…
He was there, alright
Only not so contrite!
She wasn’t no match for such craft, y’see
And everyone thought it so droll
They figured she had to be daft, y’see
So all of them stood there and laughed, y’see!
Poor soul!
Poor thing!
No!
Would no one have mercy on her?
So it is you, Benjamin Barker!