Stephen Sondheim

APRIL, KATHY, MARTA:
Doo-doo-doo-doo!
Doo-doo-doo-doo!
Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo!

You could drive a person crazy,
You could drive a person mad.
First you make a person hazy
So a person could be had,
Then you leave a person dangling sadly
Outside your door,
Which could only make a person gladly
Want you even more.

I could understand a person
If it's not a person's bag.
I could understand a person
If a person was a fag.
But worse 'n that,
A person that
Titillates a person and then leaves her flat
Is crazy,
He's a troubled person,
He's a truly crazy person himself.

KATHY:
When a person's personality is personable,
He should not sit like a lump.
It's harder than a matador coercin' a bull
To try to get you off of your rump.
So single and attentive and attractive a man
Is everything a person could wish,
But turning off a person is the act of a man
Who likes to pull the hooks out of fish.

APRIL, KATHY, MARTA:
Knock-knock! Is anybody there?
Knock-knock! It really isn't fair.
Knock-knock! I'm workin' all my charms.
Knock-knock! A zombie's in my arms.

All that sweet affection!
What is wrong?
Where's the loose connection?
How long, O Lord, how long?
Bobby-baby-Bobby-bubbi-Bobby,

You could drive a person buggy,
You could blow a person's cool.
Like you make a person feel all huggy
While you make her feel a fool.

When a person says that you upset her,
That's when you're good.
You impersonate a person better
Than a zombie should.
I could understand a person
If he wasn't good in bed.
I could understand a person
If he actually was dead.

Exclusive you!
Elusive you!
Will any person ever get the juice of you?
You're crazy,
You're a lovely person,
You're a moving,
Deeply malajusted,
Never to be trusted,
Crazy person yourself.
Bobby is my hobby and I'm givin' it up!

MRS. LOVETT:

Easy now,
Hush, love, hush,
Don't distress yourself,
What's your rush?
Keep your thoughts
Nice and lush,
Wait.

Hush, love, hush,
Think it through.
Once it bubbles, then
What's to do?
Watch it close.
Let it brew.
Wait.

I've been thinkin' flowers,
Maybe daisies,
To brighten up the room!
Don't you think some flowers,
Pretty daisies,
Might relieve the gloom?
Ah, wait,
Love, wait.

TODD: (spoken) And the judge? When will I get to him?

LOVETT:
Can't you think of nothin' else?
Always broodin' away on your wrongs
what happened heaven knows how many years ago!

Slow, love, slow.
Time's so fast.
Now goes quickly, see
Now it's past!
Soon will come,
Soon will last.
Wait.

Don't you know,
Silly man?
Half the fun is to
Plan the plan!
All good things
Come to those who can
Wait.

Gillyflowers, maybe,
'Stead of daisies...
I dunno though...
What do you think?

[Thanks to Jill Murdoch for lyrics]

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 me head's a little vague --
Ugh! What is that?
But you think we had the plague!
From the way that people
Keep avoiding --
No you don't!
Heaven knows I try, sir!
Ick!
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't hardly blame them!
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!
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
Wot 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
Wot 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 tellin' 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

JOANNE: It's the little things you do together,
Do together,
Do together
That make perfect relationships.
The hobbies you pursue together,
Savings you accrue together,
Looks you misconstrue together
That make marriage a joy.
Mmhmm...

It's the little things you share together,
Swear together,
Wear together
That make perfect relationships.
The concerts you enjoy together,
Neighbors you annoy together,
Children you destroy together
That keep marriage intact.

It's not so hard to be married
When two maneuver as one.
It's not so hard to be married,
And Jesus Christ, is it fun.

It's sharing little winks together,
Drinks together,
Kinks together
That make marriage a joy.
The bargains that you shop together,
Cigarettes you stop together,
Clothing that you swap together
That make perfect relationships.
Uh huh
Mmhmm...

FRIENDS: It's not talk of God and the decade ahead that
Allows you to get through the worst.
It's, "I do," and, "You don't," and, "Nobody said that,"
And, "Who brought the subject up first?"

It's the little things...
The little things, the little things, the little things.
The little ways you try together,
Cry together,
Lie together
That make perfect relationships.
Becoming a cliche together,
Growing old and gray together

JOANNE: Withering away together

FRIENDS: That make marriage a joy.

HUSBANDS: It's not so hard to be married

WIVES: It's much the simplest of crimes

HUSBANDS: It's not so hard to be married

JOANNE: I've done it three or four times.

JENNY: It's people that you hate together

AMY & PAUL: Bait together

PETER & SUSAN: Date together

FRIENDS: That make marriage a joy.

DAVID: It's things like using force together

LARRY: Shouting till you're hoarse together

JOANNE: Getting a divorce together

FRIENDS: That make perfect relationships.

Uh huh
Kiss kiss
Mmhmm...

I'd like to propose a toast.
Here's to the ladies who lunch.
Everybody laugh.
Lounging in their caftans and planning a brunch.
On their own behalf.
Off to the gym, then to a fitting.
Claiming they're fat and looking grim
Cause they've been sitting choosing a hat.
Does anyone still wear a hat?
I'll drink to that.

And here's to the girls who play smart-
Aren't they a gas?
Rushing to their classes in optical art,
Wishing it would pass.
Another long exhausting day,
Another thousand dollars.
A matinee, a Pinter play,
Perhaps a piece of Mahler's.
I'll drink to that.
And one for Mahler!

And here's to the girls who play wife-
Aren't they too much?
Keeping house but clutching a copy of LIFE,
Just to keep in touch.
The ones who follow the rules,
And meet themselves at the schools,
Too busy to know that they're fools,
Aren't they a gem?
I'll drink to them.
Let's all drink to them.

And here's to the girls who just watch-
Aren't they the best?
When they get depressed
It's a bottle of scotch,
Plus a little jest.
Another chance to disapprove
Another brilliant singer.
Another reason not to move
Another vodka stinger.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!
I'll drink to that.

So here's to the girls on the go-
Everybody tries.
Look into their eyes and you'll see what they know.
Everybody dies.
A toast to that invincible bunch.
The dinosaur surviving the crunch.
Let's hear it for the ladies who lunch-
Everybody rise!
Rise!
Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise!
Rise!

MRS. LOVETT:

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...

(spoken) Barker, his name was. Benjamin Barker.
TODD: What was his crime?
LOVETT: 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,
Leavin' '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...

(spoken) Johanna... That was the baby's name, pretty little Johanna.
TODD: Go on.
LOVETT: 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 'avin' this ball all in masks!
There's no one she knows there, poor dear, poor thing!
She wanders tormented and drinks, poor thing!
The judge has repented, she thinks, poor thing!
'Oh, where is Judge Turpin,' she asks...
'E 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!

MRS. LOVETT:

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...

(spoken) Barker, his name was. Benjamin Barker.
TODD: What was his crime?
LOVETT: 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,
Leavin' '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...

(spoken) Johanna... That was the baby's name, pretty little Johanna.
TODD: Go on.
LOVETT: 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 'avin' this ball all in masks!
There's no one she knows there, poor dear, poor thing!
She wanders tormented and drinks, poor thing!
The judge has repented, she thinks, poor thing!
'Oh, where is Judge Turpin,' she asks...
'E 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!

MRS. LOVETT:

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...

(spoken) Barker, his name was. Benjamin Barker.
TODD: What was his crime?
LOVETT: 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,
Leavin' '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...

(spoken) Johanna... That was the baby's name, pretty little Johanna.
TODD: Go on.
LOVETT: 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 'avin' this ball all in masks!
There's no one she knows there, poor dear, poor thing!
She wanders tormented and drinks, poor thing!
The judge has repented, she thinks, poor thing!
'Oh, where is Judge Turpin,' she asks...
'E 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!

MRS. LOVETT:

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...

(spoken) Barker, his name was. Benjamin Barker.
TODD: What was his crime?
LOVETT: 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,
Leavin' '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...

(spoken) Johanna... That was the baby's name, pretty little Johanna.
TODD: Go on.
LOVETT: 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 'avin' this ball all in masks!
There's no one she knows there, poor dear, poor thing!
She wanders tormented and drinks, poor thing!
The judge has repented, she thinks, poor thing!
'Oh, where is Judge Turpin,' she asks...
'E 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!

You're always sorry
You're always grateful
You're always wondering what might have been
Then she walks in

And still you're sorry
And still you're grateful
And still you wonder
And still you doubt
And she goes out

Everything's different
Nothing's changed
Only maybe slightly rearranged

You're sorry-grateful
Regretful-happy
Why look for answers
Where none occur?

You always are
What you always were
Which has nothing to do with
All to do with her

You're always sorry
You're always grateful
You hold her thinking
I'm not alone
You're still alone

You don't live for her
You do live with her
You're scared she's starting
To drift away
And scared she'll stay

Good things get better
Bad get worse
Wait, I think I meant that in reverse

You're sorry-grateful
Regretful-happy
Why look for answers
Where none occur
You'll always be
What you always were
Which has nothing to do with
All to do with her

Nothing to do with
All to do with her

ROBERT: Someone is waiting,
Cool as Sarah,
Easy and loving as Susan...
Jenny...

Someone is waiting,
Warm as Susan,
Frantic and touching as Amy...
Joanne...

Would I know her, even if I met her?
Have I missed her? Did I let her go?
A Susan sort of Sarah,
A Jennyish Joanne...
Wait for me, I'm ready now
I'll find you if I can!

Someone will hold me,
Soft as Jenny,
Skinny and blue-eyed as Amy...
Susan...

Someone will wake me,
Sweet as Amy,
Tender and foolish as Sarah...
Joanne...

Did I know her? Have I waited too long?
Maybe so...but maybe so has she.
My blue-eyed Sarah, warm Joanne,
Sweet Jenny, loving Susan,
Crazy Amy,
Wait for me...I'll hurry!
Wait for me...Hurry!
Wait for me...Hurry!
Wait for me...

Isn't it rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air.
Send in the clowns.

Isn't it bliss?
Don't you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can't move.
Where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.

Just when I'd stopped
Opening doors,
Finally knowing
The one that I wanted was yours,
Making my entrance again
With my usual flair,
Sure of my lines,
No one is there.

Don't you love farce?
My fault, I fear.
I thought that you'd want what I want -
Sorry, my dear.
And where are the clowns?
Quick, send in the clowns.
Don't bother, they're here.

Isn't it rich?
Isn't it queer?
Losing my timing this late
In my career?
And where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns.
Well, maybe next year . . .

Pretty women
Fascinating...
Sipping coffee,
Dancing... pretty women
Pretty women
Are a wonder.
Pretty women!

Sitting in the window or
Standing on the stair
Something in them cheers the air.

Pretty women
Silhouetted...
Stay within you,
Glancing... stay forever,
Breathing lightly...
Pretty women,
Pretty women!

Blowing out their candles or
Combing out their hair,
Even when they leave
They still are there.
They're there

Ah! Pretty women, at their mirrors,
In their gardens,
Letter-writing,
Flower-picking,
Weather-watching.
How they make a man sing!

Proof of heaven as you're living,
Pretty women! Yes, pretty women!
Here's to pretty women,
Pretty women,
Pretty women,
Pretty women

MRS. LOVETT:

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...

(spoken) Barker, his name was. Benjamin Barker.
TODD: What was his crime?
LOVETT: 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,
Leavin' '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...

(spoken) Johanna... That was the baby's name, pretty little Johanna.
TODD: Go on.
LOVETT: 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 'avin' this ball all in masks!
There's no one she knows there, poor dear, poor thing!
She wanders tormented and drinks, poor thing!
The judge has repented, she thinks, poor thing!
'Oh, where is Judge Turpin,' she asks...
'E 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!