Songtexte What A Dreadful Town! - Andrew Lloyd Webber

What a dreadful town
What a vulgar place
What an awful mistake to have come here
To be on display
In that shameless way
For the crude, common, lower-class scum here
How could he dare to treat us so?

Father, dear, come play with me
Come and see this toy I got—

What a snub at most
From our so-called host
Did he think sending freaks would be funny?
Could the fool have thought
That our pride was bought
By his filthy, American money
What a farce, what an outright slap in the face
It's an utter disgrace
I've got a mind to pack and go
Never you mind the debt we owe
Who would believe we've sunk this low?

Father, please, come play with me

Gustave, enough!
The answer's no

Must you play now?

I think it's beautiful

What is it anyway?

I don't know, it was just here on the piano

Well, it hurts my head

Please, let's not fight, dear
I'm sure Mr Hammerstein never intended a slight, dear

How dare he patronise us?
We should never have accepted

We need the money, that's all
That's why things haven't been right, dear

Why doesn't it surprise me that I get the blame here?

Let's leave tonight, dear
If that would serve to ease your troubled mind
Leave the hurt behind

Father, dear, come over here
And look at what they gave to me
Wind it up and, father, see
Look, it plays a melody

Raoul

What's this?

What is it?

It's from Hammerstein
He wants to meet me in the hotel bar, alone

Alone?

Well, he might lack courtesy
But he does show a certain savoir faire
In choosing a business rendezvous

Raoul, please

Please, what?

Nothing

Father never plays with me
Doesn't he love me?

Oh, darling!