the little priest that's only good for Mrs. Lovett's meat pie

These are desperate times,
Mrs. Lovett, and desperate measures are called for!
Here we are, now! Hot out of the oven!
What is that?

It's priest. Have a little priest.
Is it really good?
Sir, it's too good, at least!
Then again, they don't commit sins of the flesh,
So it's pretty fresh.

Awful lot of fat.
Only where it sat.
Haven't you got poet, or something like that?
No, y'see, the trouble with poet is
'Ow do you know it's deceased?
Try the priest!

Heavenly!
Not as hearty as bishop, perhaps,
but then again, not as bland as curate, either!

And good for business, too -- always leaves you wantin' more!
Trouble is, we only get it on Sundays!