The Worst Pies in London

[MRS. LOVETT, spoken]
A customer!
(sung)
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'tcher?
Sit! Sit you down!
Sit!
All I meant is that I
Haven't seen a customer for weeks
Did you come here for a pie, sir?
Do forgive me if my head's a little vague
Ugh!
What is 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!
Yich!
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 piеs in London
I know why nobody cares to take them—
I should know
I makе them
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
Finding poor
Animals
What are dying 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
Popping 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