Mrs. Lovett Improves Her Pies

Sweeney was a barber
In Fleet Street near the Strand
Cocksure was his nature
And Cockney was his brand.

Lovett was his neighbour,
A cook from Cubitt Town,
Sharing half a cellar,
They both sought high renown.

Sweeney Todd loved Lovett,
But loved her money more;
Planned a treat, did Lovett
For Sweeney, her amore.

Hair-cuts were a penny
And pies brought half a bob
Meat was too expensive,
But Sweeney'd do the job.

Lovett said to Sweeney,
'Why don't you cut their throats?
Drop them in our cellar,
We'll even sell their coats.'

Sweeney thought about it
And set his barber's chair
High above a trap door
To catch the unaware.

Waiting for the razor,
Sedated, warmed and towelled,
Feeling safe, contented,
You don't expect a growled:

'Down yer go' as Sweeney
Is slicing through your throat,
Dropping to the cellar,
A knackered, billy goat.

Waiting in the coal-hole
Is Lovett dressed to kill,
Butcher's knives she sharpens,
She'll now reveal her skill.

Lovett loves to fillet,
But first removes the clothes,
They'll fetch a handsome profit
And losses Lovett loathes.

Pies are selling, ever
So well, and Lovett's store
Is booming, customers
Come back and ask for more

And queue-up outside Sweeney's
Where patrons wanting pies
Stand together chatting -
They're in for a surprise:

Meat containing toenails
And other human parts
Makes for much suspicion
And coppers come in carts.

Sweeney Todd and Lovett
In cellars filled with heat,
Fight about the profits
And teeth within the meat.

Lovett grabs a cleaver
And chops-off Sweeney's head,
Sweeney's eyes, show surprise,
His corpse is being shred.

Lovett's lost her lover,
Young Sweeney's now a pie,
Knowing not what to do
Poor Lovett starts to cry.

'ello, ello, ello',
A bobby's at the door,
He enters, being careful,
The floor's a mess of gore.

Wistful Mistress Lovett
No longer bakes, nor cries,
But runs a tiny shop
With cookbooks on meat pies.

Copyright; Fred Curtis
Email: fgc@labyrinth.net.au