Scene 1 Mrs. Murdstone’s Orphanage For Girls Song 1: Orphans

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Song 7: Good Times


All; We had some good times, didn’t we?

We had a great team that won’t be forgotten.

Everyone pulled their weight, and I’d just like to state

I miss them something rotten.

We had a good thing going for us,

but then it all went down the drain.

But what the heck! Let’s start all over

and the good times will come again.
As their names are called, they STAND
All: There was me, Fagin,

and me, the Artful Dodger,

there was Jack the lad,

and little Jim.

there was Bob, there was Bill,

there was Walter, there was Will,

and the great big lad we called Tiny Tim.

then young Oliver Twist came along,

and somehow it all came unstuck.

It weren’t his fault that things went wrong.


and wherever he is, we wish him the best of luck.
What a team we had!

what a team we had!

What a dream we had…

what a dream we had…

we thought it would last and last

but now it’s all in the past.
All: We had some good times, didn’t we?

We had a great team that all pulled together.

We got richer each day, we were well on the way

to being the greatest ever!

We had a good thing going for us,

but then it all went down the drain.

But what the heck! Let’s start all over

and the good times will come again.

Yes, the good times will come again.

The good times will come again.

Enter OLIVIA.

Fagin: Dodger, do you see what I see?

Dodger: Wot?

Fagin: That girl? Don’t she remind you of someone?

Dodger: Who?

Fagin: Oliver Twist. Just as green-lookin’ as he was when he came to London.

Dodger: Fagin, you ain’t thinkin’ of usin’ A GIRL?

Fagin: Desperate times demand desperate measures. Let’s do it.

Dodger: You’re on!

Fagin & Dodger approach Olivia.

Fagin: Hello, child. You look lost.

Olivia: I am, sir. I’ve just come to London.

Fagin: Then you’re a lucky girl to have met us, ‘cos wot we don’t know about London ain’t worth knowing. Poor child, you look cold and hungry.

Olivia: That I am, sir.

Fagin: What’s your name, dearie?

Olivia: Olivia.

Fagin: Well, Olivia, how would you like to earn a penny?

Olivia: What do I have to do?

Fagin: I’ll give you a simple test. If you pass, there’s lots more pennies to be earned.

Olivia: What is it? Reading? Arithmetic?

Dodger: Do us a favour. Do we look like teachers?

Fagin: Look, there’s a posh gentleman coming this way. I want you to go up to him and ask the way to Shoreditch.

Olivia: I thought you knew everywhere in London.

Fagin: (Momentarily flustered, to Olivia) Er…they’ve moved it… road works, you know.

Olivia: Well, it’s a funny sort of test – but all right.

Enter GBS and ELIZA.

GBS: Thank you, Eliza. I enjoyed our chat, and I have the plot of my new play in my mind. I’m going to call it Pygmalion.

Eliza: ‘Ere! You callin’ me a pig?

GBS: (With a laugh) No, it’s the heroine of a classical legend.

Eliza: You can’t have a title like that. You need somethin’ catchy, somethin’ the public’ll go for.


GBS: Any suggestions?

Eliza: Somefink to do wiv London. London Bridge is Fallin’ Darn – no, that ain’t no good…wait, I got it! My Fair Lady!

GBS: My Fair Lady? No commercial value whatsoever…

Fagin: (To Olivia) Go on. Now.

Olivia approaches GBS.

Olivia: Excuse me, sir.

GBS: Yes, what is it, child?

Olivia: Do you know the way to Shoreditch?

GBS: (As Dodger sidles up to him) Shoreditch! I wouldn’t want to know the way to Shoreditch. And nobody I know wants to either. I believe it’s somewhere in that direction. (He waves his arm vaguely. Dodger, meanwhile has been “picking his pocket”. He waves a wallet at Fagin)

Fagin: Let’s scarpa. (Fagin & Dodger run off)

GBS: What the…(He feels his inside pocket) Help! I’ve been robbed! My wallet’s been stolen. (To Olivia) You, child, you’re responsible. I shall summon the police.

Eliza: No, it weren’t ‘er fault. I saw who did it – it was an old geezer and a young lad.

GBS: She must be their accomplice.

Olivia: They gave me a penny to ask you the way. I didn’t know they were going to rob you. (She starts to cry) Here, you can have their penny… (She offers GBS the penny)

GBS: A penny! There was ten pounds in that wallet. No, this is a case for the police.

Eliza: ‘Old on, Mr. George Bernard High-and-Mighty Shaw. What’s your name, girl?

Olivia: Olivia.

Eliza: And ‘ow much money you got, Olivia?

Olivia: (Holding up the penny) This penny.


Eliza: Nuffink else?

Olivia: No. I’ve just arrived here. I was going to find some work.

Eliza: (To GBS) Don’tcha see? This little girl was offering you all she ‘ad in the world. If it was the other way rahnd, would you offer ‘er all your riches – ‘cos I know you’re well off, aintcha?

GBS: (To Olivia) Young lady, I owe you an apology. Here – (He reaches in an inside pocket, and takes out a wallet) Here’s a pound for you (He gives Olivia a pound note) …and one for you, Eliza… (He gives Eliza a pound note) I’m afraid I was a crusty old curmudgeon, who jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Eliza: But your wallet – it was nicked. I saw it wiv my own two eyes.

GBS: A false one, my dear. I was warned by my friend Oscar Wilde about the danger of pick-pockets.

Eliza: So there weren’t a tenner in it?

GBS: Just something I couldn’t use, which they’re welcome to.

Olivia: What was that?

GBS: Two tickets to the Opera. It’s Wagner, I believe, and five hours long. I bid you good evening. (He doffs his hat and exits)

Eliza: ‘Ere, you hungry?

Olivia: I could eat a horse.

Eliza: Don’t tempt fate. There’s many round these parts that do. Look love, I earnt this parnd easy – I’ll buy us a slap-up meal.

Olivia: Oh, that would be lovely – but I’ll pay, I’ve got a pound, too.

Eliza: No, dearie, your need is greater then mine. You got anywhere to stay?


Olivia: No.

Eliza: Then you can kip wiv me tonight. Ain’t no room to swing a cat in my place, but if you don’t mind squeezing in…

Olivia: That’s very kind of you, ma’am.

Eliza: Ma’am? Blimey, ain’t you polite, girl? You call me Eliza, and I’ll call you Olivia. Olivia what, by the way?

Olivia: St. Francis.

Eliza: Olivia St. Francis? Never ‘eard of a name like that before.

Olivia: I was named after the convent where they brought me when I was a baby.

Eliza: You an orphan, then? (Olivia nods) Shame. Even more reason to see you’re treated proper. Tomorrow, I’ll set you up with Mrs. Dilber. She runs what she calls a Poor School for Girls. She’s a kindly old soul, and she sails a bit close to the wind at times, but we all got to make a living, ain’t we? Anyway she treats the kids good, don’t you worry abart that. Come on, then. Let’s go to my place and get changed. I can maybe borrow some clothes for you from Mrs. Peabody downstairs. Then, Olivia, you and I will ‘ave the best fish an’ chip supper money can buy.

Olivia: Do you know what, Eliza?

Eliza: What?

Olivia: I’ve never been this happy in my life before.

Eliza: Sounds as is you ain’t had much fun, girl.

Olivia: I haven’t.

Eliza: Well, it’s about time you did. Tell you wot – after we’ve had the grub, I’ll take yer to the Music Hall. Let’s go, Olivia – you and I are going to take the tarn by storm tonight.

They exit. Enter LAMPLIGHTER, FAGIN & DODGER.

Lamplighter: Evenin’, Fagin. Wotcher, Dodger.


Dodger: Hello, Charley. Nights are drawing in.

Lamplighter: So they are. Same number of lamps to light, though.

Fagin: It’s a hard life. (To Dodger) Hard for us, too, Dodger. An empty wallet. Never had that happen before. It’s an embarrassment to a man of my professional stature, that’s what it is.

Dodger: Not quite empty, Fagin. (He holds up 2 tickets) Look, two tickets to the opera.

Fagin: Yes, but no money. Bloke must be skint.

Dodger: Can’t be skint if he can afford these. May as well use them.

Fagin: You mean flog them? Now you’re talking.

Dodger: No, not flog ‘em. Use ‘em properly.

Fagin: You don’t mean...? (Dodger nods and points to the Opera House) But you don’t like opera. I don’t like opera. Nobody likes opera.

Dodger: Some people must, uvverwise it wouldn’t be full every night. Come on, Fagin, it won’t cost us. Who knows, it might be fun – and how do you know you don’t like it if you ain’t tried it?

Fagin: I met an opera singer once.

Dodger: Oh, yeah? Wot was he like? Did he throw tantrums and spit his dummy out, like I’ve heard they do?

Fagin: How should I know? He was Italian. Couldn’t understand a bloomin’ word he said. Seemed a nice enough bloke, though. But I did hear he had a tragic accident on stage.

Dodger: Go on! Serious, was it?

Fagin: Finished his career, poor feller. You see, he used to train on spaghetti. Mornin’, noon and night, nothin’ but spaghetti. Then one night in the opera he tried to hit a top C, his voice cracked, and lassoed the first three rows of the stalls.


Dodger: I knew you was windin’ me up. Fagin.

Fagin: You ain’t serious, though, are you, Dodger? About us going in there?

Dodger: Sure I am. Let’s not look a gift ticket in the marf.

Fagin: Well, all right. But if I die of boredom, you pay for my funeral.

Dodger: Don’t be such an old grouch. We might enjoy it.




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