Oliver! - THAT'S YOUR FUNERAL

[leila (save it for me)]

THAT'S YOUR FUNERAL



   Mr. Bumble takes Oliver to the undertaker's parlor of Mr. and Mrs.
   Sowerberry and sells him into indentured servitude for 5 pounds.
   Sowerberry intends to use Oliver as a coffin follower.  We learn
   Oliver's full name is Oliver Twist, named by Mr. Bumble when his
   mother died in childbirth.  Sowerberry puts a top hat on Oliver and is
   pleased with the effect.

   MR. BUMBLE: He's a born undertaker's mute:
   I can see him in his black silk suit
   Following behind the funeral procession
   With his features fixed in a suitable expression.
   There'll be horses with tall black plumes
   To escort us to the family tombs,
   With mourners
   In all corners
   Who've been taught to weep in tune.

   Then the coffin lined with satin.
   That's your funeral.
   MRS. SOWERBERRY: That's your funeral.
   SOWERBERRY: Large enough to wear your hat in.
   That's your funeral.
   MRS. SOWERBERRY: That's your funeral.
   SOWERBERRY:   We're just here to glamorize you for that
   Endless sleep.
   MR. & MRS. SOWERBERRY: You might just as well look fetching
   When you're six feet deep.
   MRS. SOWERBERRY:   At the wake we'll drink a toddy
   To the body beautiful.
   MR. SOWERBERRY: That's your funeral.
   MRS. SOWERBERRY: Not our funeral.
   MR. & MRS. SOWERBERRY: That's your funeral.
   SOWERBERRY:   If you're fond of overeating
   That's your funeral.
   MRS. SOWERBERRY:   That's your funeral.
   SOWERBERRY:   Starve yourself by undereating
   That's your funeral.
   MR. BUMBLE: That's my funeral.
   MRS. SOWERBERRY: Visualize the earth descending on you clod by clod.
   You can't come back when you're buried
   Underneath the sod.
   MR. & MRS. SOWERBERRY: We will not reduce our prices.
   Keep your vices usual.
   SOWERBERRY:   That's your funeral
   MRS. SOWERBERRY: Not our funeral.
   ALL:   That's your funeral.
   MR. BUMBLE:   I don't think this song is funny.
   SOWERBERRY:   That's your funeral.
   MR. BUMBLE:   Here's the boy, now where's the money?
   SOWERBERRY:   That's your funeral.
   MRS. SOWERBERRY: That's your funeral.
   MR. BUMBLE:   That's your funeral.
   SOWERBERRY:   We don't harbour thoughts macabre,
   There's no need to frown
   MR. & MRS. SOWERBERRY: In the end we'll either burn you up or nail you
   down.
   We love coughs and wheezes
   And diseases called incurable.
   That's your funeral.
   No one else's funeral.
   SOWERBERRY:   That's your...
   MRS. SOWERBERRY:   That's your...
   MR. & MRS. SOWERBERRY: Funeral!


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