Contest, The

I am Adolfo Pirelli,
The king of the barbers,
The barber of kings
Eh, buongiorno,
Good day
I blow you a kiss
And I, the so-famous Pirelli,
I wish-a to know-a
Who has-a da 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 is nothing but an arrant fraud,
Concocted from piss and ink.

Furthermore, signor,
I have serviced no kings,
Yet I'll 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,
How 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 you gather around
Signorini, signori, you looking a man
Who have had-a the glory to shave-a the Pope
Mister Sweeney, whoever, I beg-a your pardon
You'll probably say it was only a cardinal,
Nope.
It was-a the pope.

To shave-a the face
To cut-a the hair
Require a grace,
Require the flair;
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 the 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 pain
It take-a the pace,
It take-a the grace

The winner, is Todd