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"Come in. Come in, my child. We mustn't lurk in doorways - it's rude. One MIGHT question your upbringing. . . . Now, then. You're here because you have a thing for this human."











I admit that in the past I've been a nasty

They weren't kidding when they called me, well, a witch

But you'll find that nowadays

I've mended all my ways

Repented, seen the light and made a switch

True? Yes

And I fortunately know a little magic

It's a talent that I always have possessed

And here lately, please don't laugh

I use it on behalf

Of the miserable, lonely and depressed

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(Pathetic)



Poor unfortunate souls

In pain

In need

This one longing to be thinner

That one wants to get the girl

And do I help them?

Yes, indeed

Those poor unfortunate souls

So sad

So true

They come flocking to my cauldron

Crying, "Spells, Ursula please!"

And I help them?

Yes, I do

Now it's happened once or twice

Someone couldn't pay the price

And I'm afraid I had to rake 'em 'cross the coals

Yes, I've had the odd complaint

But on the whole I've been a saint

To those poor unfortunate souls



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You'll have your looks! Your pretty face! And don't underestimate the importance of body language! Ha!



The men up there don't like a lot of blabber

They think a girl who gossips is a bore

Yes, on land it's much preferred

For ladies not to say a word

And after all, dear, what is idle prattle for?



Come on, they're not all that impressed with conversation

True gentlemen avoid it when they can

But they dote and swoon and fawn

On a lady who's withdrawn

It's she who holds her tongue who gets her man

Come on, you poor unfortunate soul

Go ahead!

Make your choice!

I'm a very busy woman

And I haven't got all day

It won't cost much

Just your voice!

You poor unfortunate soul

It's sad

But true

If you want to cross a bridge, my sweet

You've got to pay the toll

Take a gulp and take a breath

And go ahead and sign the scroll!

Flotsam, Jetsam, now I've gother, boys

The boss is on a roll

This poor unfortunate soul.

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Paluga, sarruga, come winds of the Caspian Sea.

Now rings us glossitis and max laryngitis,

La voce to me!

Now . . . sing!

KEEP singing!!!!

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