Pirelli's Death Lyrics — Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

PIRELLI:
Good morning, Mr. Todd-- and to you,
bellissima signorina.

MRS. LOVETT:
Well, 'ow do you do, signor, I'm sure.

PIRELLI:
A little business with Mr. Todd,
signora. Perhaps if you will give the
permission?

MRS. LOVETT:
Oh yes, indeed, I'll just pop on down to
my pies. Oh lawks, look at it now!
Don't look like it's had a kind word
since half past never! What would you
say, son, to a nice juicy meat pie, eh?
Your teeth is strong, I hope?

TOBIAS:
Oh yes, ma'am.

MRS. LOVETT:
Then come with me, love.

PIRELLI:
Mr. Todd.

TODD:
Signor Pirelli.



PIRELLI:
(Reverting to Irish)
Ow, call me Danny. Daniel O' Higgins'
the name when it's not perfessional.
Not much, but I imagine you'll pretty it
up a bit. I'd like me five quid back,
if'n ya don't mind.

TODD:
Why?

MRS. LOVETT:
That's my boy. Tuck in.

PIRELLI:
It'll hold me over till your customers
start coming. Then it's half your
profits you'll hand over to me every
week on a Friday, share and share alike.
All right... Mr. Benjamin Barker?

TODD:
(Very quiet)
Why do you call me that?

MRS. LOVETT:
At least you've got a nice full head of
hair on you.

TOBIAS:
Well, ma'am, to tell the truth, ma'am--
-- gets awful 'ot.


PIRELLI:
You don't remember me. Why should you?
I was just a down and out Irish lad you
hired for a couple of weeks-- sweeping
up hair and such like-- but I remember
these-- and you. Benjamin Barker, later
transported to Botany Bay for life. So,
Mr. Todd-- is it a deal or do I run down
the street for me pal Beadle Bamford?


PIRELLI:
(Sings, nastily)
You t'ink a you smart,
You foolish-a boy.
Tomorrow you start
In my-a employ!
You unner-a-stan'?
You like-a my plan--?

(TODD starts in a protracted struggle,
to strangle PIRELLI)


TOBIAS:
(Downstairs unaware of this)
Oh gawd, he's got an appointment with
his tailor. If he's late and it's my
fault-- you don't know him!


MRS. LOVETT:
I wouldn't want to, I'm sure, dear.

(TODD violently continues with the
strangling)

TOBIAS:
Signor! It's late! The tailor, sir.
Oh, me wig!
Signor, I did like you said. I
reminded you... the tailor... Ow, he
ain't here.

TODD:
Signor Pirelli has been called away.

TOBIAS:
Where did he go?

TODD:
He didn't say. You'd better run after
him.

TOBIAS:
Oh no, sir. Knowing him, sir, without
orders to the contrary, I'd best wait
for him here.

TODD:
So Mrs. Lovett gave you a pie, did she,
my lad?

TOBIAS:
Oh yes, sir. She's a real kind lady.
One whole pie.

TODD:
A whole pie, eh? That's a treat. And
yet, if I know a growing boy, there's
still room for more, eh?

TOBIAS:
I'd say, sir.
An aching void.


TODD:
Then why don't you run downstairs and
wait for your master there? There'll be
another pie in it for you, I'm sure.
And tell Mrs. Lovett to give you a nice
big tot of gin.

TOBIAS:
Oo, sir! Gin, sir! Thanking you, sir,
thanking you kindly. Gin! You're a
christian indeed sir!
Oh, ma'am, the gentleman says to give me
a nice tot of gin, ma'am.


MRS. LOVETT:
Gin, dear? Why not!

(Upstairs, with great ferocity, TODD
opens the chest, grabs the screaming
PIRELLI by the hair, tugs him up from
the chest and slashes his throat.)
Last Update: June, 27th 2025