Poor Thing - Stephen Sondheim

Written by：Stephen Sondheim

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

Barker his name was benjamin barker

Transported what was his crime

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

Leaving '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

Johanna that was the child's name pretty little johanna

Go on

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 having this ball all in masks

There's no one she knows there

Poor dear

Poor thing

She wonders tormented and drinks

Poor thing

The judge has repented she thinks

Poor thing

Oh where is judge turpin she asks

He 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

No would no one have mercy on her

So it is you benjamin barker