- the worst pies in london -

* MRS. LOVETT *
Wait! What's yer rush?
What's yer hurry? (She sticks the knife into the counter)
You gave me such a-- (Wipes her hands on her apron)
Fright. I thought you was a ghost.
Half a minute, can'tcher?
Sit!
Sit ye down! (An order)
Sit! (He obeys)
All I meant is that I
Haven't seen a customer for weeks.
Did you come here for a pie, sir?
(Todd nods. She flicks a bit of dust off a pie with a rag)
Do forgive me if me head's a little vague--
(She plucks something off the pie, examines it)
What is that?
But you'd think we had the plague--
(She drops it on the floor and stamps on it)
From the way that people-- (She flicks something off the pie with her finger)
Keep avoiding-- (Spotting it moving)
No, you don't! (She smacks it with her hand)
Heaven knows I try, sir! (Lifts her hand, looks at it)
(She wipes it on the edge of the counter)
But there's no one comes in even to inhale--
(She blows the last dust off the pie as she brings it to him)
Right you are, sir. Would you like a drop of ale? (Todd nods)
Mind you, I can't hardly blame them-- (Pouring a tankard of ale)
These are probably the worst pies in London.
I know why nobody cares to take them--
I should know,
I make 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. (He does. It's horrible)
Is that just disgusting?
You have to concede it.
It's nothing but crusting--
Here, drink this, you'll need it-- (She gives him the ale)
The worst pies in London.
And no wonder with the price of meat
What it is-- (Grunt)
When you get it. (Grunt)
Never (Grunt)
Thought I'd live to see the day
Men'd think it was a treat
Finding poor (Grunt)
Animals (Grunt)
Wot are dying in the street.
Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop,
Does a business, but I noticed something weird--
Lately all her neighbors' cats have disappeared. (Shrugs)
Have to hand it to her--
Wot 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 pussy cats is quick. (Leans on counter, exhausted)
No denying times is hard, sir -- Even harder than
The worst pies in London.
Only lard and nothing more-- (As Todd gamely tries another mouthful)
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! (Sighs heavily)
Ah sir,
Times is hard. Times is hard.