Biography:
Stephen Sondheim (born March 22, 1930 in New York City) is a composer and lyricist for stage and screen. He is one of the few people to win an Academy Award, multiple Tony Awards, multiple Grammy Awards, and a Pulitzer Prize.
Sondheim has been writing for the American Musical Theatre for the past four decades. His breakthrough musical Company revolutionized the art form. He is considered by many to be the finest living composer of our time.
His scores include Passion
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[MRS. LOVETT]
A costumer!
A
Wait! What's your rush? What's your hurry?
You gave me such a... fright!
I thought you was a ghost!
A
Half a minute, can't ya sit?
D
Sit ya down! Sit!
All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeks
A
Did ya come here for a pie, sir?
A
Do forgive me if me head's a little vague
What was that?
But you'd think we'd have the plague
A
From the way that people keep avoiding
C#m
No, you don't!
C#m A
Heaven knows I try, sir!
But there's no one comes in even to inhale
A F C Dm
Right you are, sir, would you like a drop of ale?
F#m
Mind you I can hardly blame them
C#m F#m
These are probably the worst pies in London
C#m F#m
I know why nobody cares to take them
I should know
E
I make 'em
D#m
But good? No...
D C#m F#m
The worst pies in London...
C#m F#m
Even that's polite! The worst pies in London!
C#m
If you doubt it take a bite!
F#m
Is that just disgusting?
C#m
You have to concede it
E
It's nothing but crusting
B D
Here drink this, you'll need it
C#m
The worst pies in London
C#m C
And no wonder with the price of meat
What it is
When you get it
Never thought I'd live to see the day
F
Men'd think it was a treat findin' poor animals
C
What are dyin' in the street
F E A
Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop
D A A
Does a business but I notice something weird
A
Lately, all her neighbors cats have disappeared
Have to hand it to her!
E
What I calls enterprise!
A
Poppin' pussies into pies!
C#m A
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
F#m
No denying times is hard, sir!
C#m F#m
Even harder than the worst pies in London
Only lard and nothing more
Is that just revolting?
C#m
All greasy and gritty?
E B
It looks like it's molting
D
And tastes like... Well, pity
C#m
A woman alone!
With limited wind
F#m G#m B
And the worst pies in London!
C#m
Ah, sir
Times is hard
F#m
Times is hard!
A costumer!
A
Wait! What's your rush? What's your hurry?
You gave me such a... fright!
I thought you was a ghost!
A
Half a minute, can't ya sit?
D
Sit ya down! Sit!
All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeks
A
Did ya come here for a pie, sir?
A
Do forgive me if me head's a little vague
What was that?
But you'd think we'd have the plague
A
From the way that people keep avoiding
C#m
No, you don't!
C#m A
Heaven knows I try, sir!
But there's no one comes in even to inhale
A F C Dm
Right you are, sir, would you like a drop of ale?
F#m
Mind you I can hardly blame them
C#m F#m
These are probably the worst pies in London
C#m F#m
I know why nobody cares to take them
I should know
E
I make 'em
D#m
But good? No...
D C#m F#m
The worst pies in London...
C#m F#m
Even that's polite! The worst pies in London!
C#m
If you doubt it take a bite!
F#m
Is that just disgusting?
C#m
You have to concede it
E
It's nothing but crusting
B D
Here drink this, you'll need it
C#m
The worst pies in London
C#m C
And no wonder with the price of meat
What it is
When you get it
Never thought I'd live to see the day
F
Men'd think it was a treat findin' poor animals
C
What are dyin' in the street
F E A
Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop
D A A
Does a business but I notice something weird
A
Lately, all her neighbors cats have disappeared
Have to hand it to her!
E
What I calls enterprise!
A
Poppin' pussies into pies!
C#m A
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
F#m
No denying times is hard, sir!
C#m F#m
Even harder than the worst pies in London
Only lard and nothing more
Is that just revolting?
C#m
All greasy and gritty?
E B
It looks like it's molting
D
And tastes like... Well, pity
C#m
A woman alone!
With limited wind
F#m G#m B
And the worst pies in London!
C#m
Ah, sir
Times is hard
F#m
Times is hard!
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