Poor Thing Lyrics & Chords By Helena Bonham Carter & Johnny Depp

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
He had this wife, you see
Pretty little thing
Silly little nit
Had her chance for the moon on a string
Poor thing
Poor thing
There was this Judge, you see
Wanted her like mad
Every day he'd send her a flower
But did she come down from her tower?
Sat up there and sobbed by the hour
Poor fool
Ah, but there was worse yet to come, poor thing
The 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 havin' this ball all in masks
There's no one she knows there
Poor dear, poor thing
She wanders, 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, you see
And everyone thought it so droll
They figured she had to be daft,
you see
So all of 'em stood there and laughed, you see
Poor soul!
Poor thing!