Lyrics
I am Adolfo Pirelli
The king of the barbers, the barber of kings
E buon giorno, good day
I blow you a kiss
And I, the so famous Pirelli
I wish-a to know-a who has-a the nerve-a to say
My elixir is piss!
Who says this?
I do
I'm Mr. Sweeney Todd of Fleet Street
I have opened a bottle of Pirelli's Elixir and I say to you
That it's nothing but an errant fraud, concocted from piss and ink
Furthermore, Signor, I have serviced no kings
Yet I wager that I can shave a cheek with ten times more dexterity
Than any street mountebank
You hear this foolish man?
Now please, you will see 'ow he will-a regret-a his-a folly!
Who's for a free shave?
Will Beadle Bamford be the judge?
Glad, as always to oblige my friends and neighbours!
The fastest, smoothest shave, is the winner!
Now signorini, signori, we mix-a the lather
But first-a you gather around
Signorini, signori, you looking a man
Who had-a the glory to shave-a the pope
Mister Sweeney, whoever, I beg-a the pardon
He'll probably say-a it was only a cardinal, nope!
It was-a the pope!
To shave-a the face
To cut-a the hair
Require the grace
Require the flare
For if-a you slip
You nick the skin
You clip-a the chin
You rip-a the lip a bit beyond-a repair
To shave-a the face
Or even a part
Without it-a smart
Require the heart
Not just-a the flash
It take-a panache
It take-a the passion for the art
To shave-a the face
To trim-a the beard
To make-a the bristle
Clean like a whistle
This is from early infancy
The talent give to me by God
It take-a the skill
It take-a the brains
It take-a the will
To take-a the pains
It take-a the pace
It take-a the grace
The winner, is Todd!