분야
hwp Is it worth the waiting for
if we live till
All we ever get is gruel
Every day we say a prayer
Will they change the bill of fare
Still we get the same old gruel
There is not a crust
Not a crumb can we find
Can we beg
can we borrow or cadge
But theres nothing to stop us
from getting a thrill
When we all close our eyes
And imagine
Food, glorious food
Hot sausage and mustard
While were in the mood
Cold jelly and custard
Peas, pudding and saveloys
What next is the question
Rich gentlemen have it, boys
Indigestion
Food
Were anxious to try it
Three banquets a day
Our favorite diet
Just picture a great big steak
Fried, roasted or stewed
Oh, food, wonderful food
Marvelous food, glorious food
Food, glorious food
Dont care what it looks like
Burned, underdone, crude
Dont care what the cooks like
Just thinking of growing fat
Our senses are reeling
One moment of knowing that
Full up feeling
Food, glorious food
What wouldnt we give for
That extra bit more
Thats all that we live for
Why should we be fated to do
nothing but brood on food
Magical food
Wonderful food
Marvelous food
Heavenly food
Beautiful food
Glorious
Food
For what youre about to receive
May the Lord
make you truly thankful
Amen
Go on. Go on.
Please, sir,
I want some more.
What?
Please, sir...
I want some more?
More?
- Catch him!
- Snatch him!
- Hold him!
- Scold him!
- Pounce him, trounce him
- Pick him up and bounce him
Wait!
Before we take the lad to task
May I be so curious
As to ask his name
Oliver
Oliver Twist, Mr. Bumble.
You named him so yourself.
So thats who he is.
Oliver, Oliver
Never before has a boy wanted more
Oliver, Oliver
Wont ask for more
when he knows whats in store
Theres a dark, thin, winding stairway
without any bannister
Which well throw him down
And feed him cockroaches
served in a canister
Oliver, Oliver, what will he do
when hes turned black and blue
He will rue the day
somebody named him Oliver
Oliver, Oliver
Never before has a boy wanted more
Oliver, Oliver, wont ask for more
when he knows whats in store
Theres a long, thin, winding stairway
without any bannister
Which well throw him down
And feed him cockroaches
served in a canister
Oliver, Oliver
What, heavens pray
will the governors say
They will lay the blame
on the one
Who named him
Oliver
- Get out!
- Out!
One boy
Boy for sale
Hes going cheap
How much?
Only seven guineas
How much?
That or thereabout
Fine boy
Boy for sale
Hes yours to keep
For one thousand pennies
You can work it out
Thats four pounds, three and four
slightly under four guineas
- Knocked down from seven guineas
- Three pounds, ten shillings.
Three pounds what, sir
Certainly not, sir
Any advance
on three pounds, ten then
Going
Going
Gone
I could not say
He isnt very greedy
I dare not
Id be telling you
A tale
One boy
Boy for sale
Come take a peek
Have you ever seen as nice
A boy
For sale
How much did you say?
Only three guineas, Mr. Sowerberry.
A bargain if ever there was one.
I was looking for a boy.
Bring him in, Mr. Bumble.
Bring him in.
My love...
I said we might consider taking this boy
to help in the shop.
Dear me!
Hes very small.
He is small, theres no denying.
But hell grow, Mrs. Sowerberry.
I dare say he will...
on our vitals and drink.
These workhouse boys always cost
more than theyre worth.
- Where did he come from?
- Mother came to us destitute.
She brings a child into the world, takes
one look at him and promptly dies...
without leaving
a forwarding name and address.
So hes yours for three guineas
as agreed, cash on delivery.
No, no, Mr. Bumble.
Cash upon liking.
A week on approval.
If we get enough work out of him...
without putting too much food into him,
then well keep him.
He can help Noah Claypole
put the shutters up. Do you hear, Noah?
Then he can clean the stables,
fill the lamps and sweep the yard.
Ill look after him.
It occurred to me that hed make
a delightful coffin follower.
That expression of melancholy.
Its very interesting,
dont you think so, my love?
I dont mean
a regular coffin follower...
to attend grown-up people.
No. Just for childrens funerals.
A mute in proportion, so to speak.
Precisely.
Superb effect,
dont you think so, my love?
You think you could look
like that gentleman up there?
Perhaps, if I had a tall hat.
Theres Oliver!
Hows your mother, workhouse?
You leave my mother out of it.
Shes dead.
Whatd she die of?
Shortage of breath?
You better not say anything
about her to me.
Dont you be cheeky, workhouse.
Your mother!
She was a nice one.
- A regular bad one she was.
- What did you say?
Its good she died when she did cause
