The Worst Pies in London

MRS LOVETTWait, hat's your rush, what's your hurry?You gave me such a fright, I thought you was a ghostHalf a minute can't you sit, sit you down, sitAll I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeksDid you come here for a pie, Sir?Do forgive me if me head's a little vague, what is that?But you'd think we had the plagueFrom the way that people keep avoiding, no, you don'tHeaven knows I try, SirBut there's no one comes in even to inhaleRight you are, Sir, would you like a drop of ale?Mind you I can hardly blame themThese are probably the worst pies in LondonI know why nobody cares to take themI should know, I make them, but good, noThe worst pies in London, even that's politeThe worst pies in London, if you doubt it, take a biteIs that just disgusting? You have to concede itIt's nothing but crustingHere drink this, you'll need itThe worst pies in LondonAnd no wonder with the price of meatWhat it is, when you get itNever thought I'd live to see the dayMen'd think it was a treat finding poor animalsWhat are dying in the streetMrs Mooney has a pie shopDoes a business, but I notice something weirdLately all her neighbors's cats have disappearedHave to hand it to her, what I calls enterprisePopping pussies into piesWouldn't do in my shopJust the thought of it's enough to make you sickAnd I'm telling you, them pussycats is quickNo denying times is hard, SirEven harder than the worst pies in LondonOnly lard and nothing more, is that just revolting?All greasy and gritty? It looks like it's moltingAnd tastes like we'll pity, a woman alone with limited windAnd the worst pies in London, ah SirTimes is hard, times is hard