Lyrics The Contest - The Musicals

The Contest

I am Adolfo Pirelli
The king of the barbers
The barber of the kings
E bon giorno, good day
I blow you a kiss!
And I, the so famous Pirelli
I wish-a to know-a
Who has-a the nerve-a to say
My elixir is piss!
Who says this?
I do.
I am Mr. Sweeney Todd.
I have opened a bottle of Pirelli’s elixir,
and I say to you it is nothing but an arrant fraud.
And furthermore—"Signor"
—I have serviced no kings, yet I wager that I can shave a cheek and pull a
tooth with ten times more dexterity than any street mountebank!
You hear-a this foolish man?
Watch and see how he will-a regret his-a folly!
Will Beadle Bamford be the judge?
Glad, as always, to oblige my friends and neighbors
Ready?
Ready
Ready
The fastest, smoothest shave is the winner
Now, signorini, signori
We mix-a the lather
But first-a you gather around
Signorini, signori
You looking a man
Who have had-a the glory
To shave-a the Pope!
Mr. Sweeney whoever—
I beg-a your pardon—'e'll call me a liar
Say it was only a cardinal—Nope!
It was-a the Pope!
Perhaps, signorini, signori
You’d like-a tell you
The story of Queen Isabella
The queen of-a Polan
Whose toot' was-a swollen
I pull it so nice from her mout'
That-a though to begin
She’s a screaming-a murder
She’s later-a swoon-a with bliss
An' was heard-a to shout
Pull all of 'em out
To shave-a the face
To pull-a the toot'
Require the grace
And not the brute
For if-a you slip
You nick-a the skin
You clip-a the chin
You rip-a the lip a bit
And that’s-a the trut'
To shave-a the face
Or even a part
Widout it-a smart
Require the heart
Not just-a the flash
It take-a the art, I show you a chart
I study-a starting in my yout'
To cut-a the hair
To trim-a the beard
To make-a the bristle
Clean like a whistle
This is from early infancy
The talent give to me
By God!
It take-a the skill
It take-a the brains
It take-a the will
To take-a the pains
It take-a the pace
It take-a the grace—
The winner is Todd
And now who’s for a tooth pulling
Free without charge
Me, sir, me, sir
Who else?
No one?
Then sir, since there is no means to test the second skill I
claim victory
Wait, one moment, wait
You, boy, get on that chair
Me, signor?
Oh, not a tooth, sir, I beg of you, I ain’t got a twinge,
not the slightest pain, I
You do now.
We see who is zee victor now
Ready?
Ready
Ready
To pull-a the toot' without-a the skill
Can damage the root
Now hold-a the still an' if-a you slip
You grip a bit, you hit the pit of it
Or chip-a the do and have-a to fill
To pull-a the toot' without-a the grace
You leave-a the space all over the place
You try to erase without-a the trace
Sometimes is the case you even-a kill
To hold-a the clamp without-a the cramp
With all that saliva, it could-a drive-a you crazy
Don' mutter or back-a you go to the gutter
My touch is as light as a butter-a cup
I take-a the pains, I learn-a the art
I use-a the brains, I give-a the heart
I have-a the grace, I win-a the race
I give up!