Poor Thing

MRS LOVETTThere was a barber and his wifeAnd he was beautifulA proper artist with a knifeBut they transported him for lifeAnd he was beautiful...He had this wife, you seePretty little thing, silly little nitHad her chance for the moon on a stringPoor thing, poor thingThere were this judge, you seeWanted her like madEvery day he'd send her a flowerBut did she come down from her tower?Sat up there and thought by the hour, poor foolAh but there was worse yet to come, poor thingWell Beadle calls on her all politePoor thing, poor thingThe judge, he tells her, is all contrightHe blames himself for her dreadful plightShe must come straight to his house tonightPoor thing, poor thingOf course when she goes therePoor thing, poor thingThey're having this ball all in masksThere's no one she knows therePoor dear, poor thingShe wonders tormented and drinks, poor thingThe judge has repented she thinks, poor thingOh where is Judge Turpin?, she asksHe was there alright, only not so contrightShe wasn't no match for such craft, you seeAnd everyone thought it so drollThey figured she had to be daft, you seeSo all of them stood there and laughed, you seePoor soul, poor thing