Biografia:
Stephen Joshua Sondheim (22 de Março de 1930) tem sido visto como o grande escritor de musicais de sua geração. Descrito por Frank Rich no The New York Times como "o maior e talvez o mais conhecido artista do teatro musical americano"[1], ele é uma das poucas pessoas a ganhar um Academy Award, vários Tony Awards (sete, mais do que qualquer outro compositor), inúmeros Grammy Awards e um Prémio Pulitzer. Suas obras mais famosas (como compositor/letrista) incluem A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum
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Quatro anos de trabalho duro!Neste mês de maio fizemos quatro anos no ar. Continuamos trabalhando na divulgação deste maravilhoso instrumento, obrigado por participar da nossa história!
[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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