Текст песни Poor Thing (Stephen Sondheim) с переводом

There was a barber and his wife

And he was beautiful

A proper artist with a knife

But they transported him for life

And he was beautiful

Barker, his name was. Benjamin Barker

Transported? What was his crime?

Foolishness…

He had this wife, y’see

Pretty little thing

Silly little nit

Had her chance for the moon on a string

Poor thing!

Poor thing!

There were these two, y’see

Wanted her like mad!

One of 'em a judge, t’other one his beadle!

Every day they’d nudge and they’d wheedle!

But she wouldn’t budge from her needle!

Too bad

Pure thing

So they merely shipped the poor blighter off south, they did

Leaving 'er with nothing but grief and a year-old kid!

Did she use her head even then? Oh no, God forbid!

Poor fool!

Ah, but there was worse yet to come

Poor thing!

Johanna… That was the child’s name, pretty little Johanna

Go on

My, you do like a good story, don’t you?

Well, Beadle calls on her all polite

Poor thing!

Poor thing!

The judge, he tells her, is all contrite

He blames himself for her dreadful plight

She must come straight to his house tonight!

Poor thing!

Poor thing!

Of course when she goes there

Poor thing

Poor thing!

They’re having this ball all in masks

There’s no one she knows there

Poor dear

Poor thing!

She wonders, tormented and drinks

Poor thing!

The judge has repented, she thinks

Poor thing!

«Oh, where is Judge Turpin?» she asks…

He was there, alright

Only not so contrite!

She wasn’t no match for such craft, y’see

And everyone thought it so droll

They figured she had to be daft, y’see

So all of them stood there and laughed, y’see!

Poor soul!

Poor thing!

No! Would no one have mercy on her?

So it is you, Benjamin Barker!

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