The boat sailed along the river towards the distant docks. A melodic voice sang with sadness and power. It was deep and sounded as if you had been walking on pebbles. In truth it was grainy, but power behind told stories as the voice sang in it's thickness.
I have sailed the world
Beheld its wonders
From the Dardanelles
To the mountains of Peru
But there's no place like Hoofington
No, there's no place like Hoofington
"Mr. Trot?" said a voice off to the side. Mr. Todd, as the stallion was called, turned to the side and looked at the younger stallion.
You are young
Life has been kind to you
You will learn
There's a hole in the world
like a great black pit
And the vermin of the world inhabit it
And its morals aren't worth
what a pig could spit
And it goes by the name of Hoofington
At the top of the hole
sit a privileged few
Making mock of the vermin
in the lower zoo
Turning beauty into filth and greed
I too have sailed the world
and seen its wonders
For the cruelty of men
is as wondrous as Peru
But there's no place like Hoofington
"Is everything all right, Mr. Trot?" The handsome white and brown stallion questioned, his brown hair was strewn in the wind.
"I beg your indulgence, Pip. My mind is far from easy." Mr. Trot said with nothing in his voice, though at the same time it was full of melancholy. The ship docked and the pair set out.
After passing the flood walls the two continued their conversation.
"In these once familiar streets,I feel shadows everywhere." Trot said blandly.
"Shadows?" Pip questioned, perhaps a little to eagerly.
"Ghosts." Trot said back as if in a daze. His voice once more began to fill the space around him.
There was a barber and his wife
And she was beautiful
A foolish barber and his wife
She was his reason and his life
And she was beautiful
And she was virtuous
And he was
naive
There was another man who saw
that she was beautiful
A pious vulture of the law
Who, with a gesture of his claw
Removed the barber from his plate
Then there was nothing but to wait
And she would fall
So soft, so young
so lost and, oh, so beautiful
"And the lady, sir, did she succumb?" Pip asked.
"Oh, that was many years ago. I doubt if anyone would know." He said quietly. Suddenly he turned to Pip.
"I'd like to thank you, Pip." Trot said. "If you hadn't spotted me,I'd be lost on the ocean still."
"Will I see you again?"
You might find me if you like. Around Cake Street, I wouldn't wonder."
"Until then, my friend." Pip said. He turned and trotted off. Trot stayed there. He looked back to the docks and to the busy city in front of him. His anger began to build. He quickly turn towards the inner city, and walking briskly he whispered to himself venomously.
There's a hole in the world
like a great black pit
And it's filled with people
who are filled with shit
And the vermin of the world inhabit it
He looked at was once his home. Walking in he sighed. A lively mare was running this way and that. She turned towards him and gasped.
"A customer!"
Wait! What's your rush?
What's your hurry?
You gave me such a fright
I thought you was a ghost!
Half a minute, can't you sit?
Sit you down. Sit!
All I meant is that I haven't seen
a customer for weeks!
Did you come here for a pie, sir?
Do forgive me
if me head's a little vague
"What was that?" she questioned stomping on the ground.
But you'd think we had the plague!
From the way that people keep avoiding
No, you don't.
Heaven knows I try, sir!
But there's no one
comes in even to inhale
Right you are, sir
would you like a drop of ale?
Mind you, I can hardly blame them
These are probably
the worst pies in Equestria
I know why nobody cares to take them
I should know, I make them
But good? No!
The worst pies in Equestria
Even that's polite
The worst pies in Equestria
If you doubt it, take a bite
He took a bite of the pie and had to hold himself so that he didn't throw up. He began to spit pieces as she turned and continued singing.
Is that just disgusting?
You have to concede it
It's nothing but crusting
Here, drink this, you'll need it
The worst pies in Equestria!
And no wonder
with the price of meat what it is
When you get it
Never thought I'd live to see the day
Men'd think it was a treat
Finding poor animals
What are dying in the street
Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop
Does her business
but I noticed something weird
Lately all her neighbors' cats
have disappeared
Have to hand it to her
What I calls enterprise
Popping pussies into pies
Wouldn't do in my shop
Just the thought of it's enough
to make you sick
And I'm telling you
them pussycats is quick
No denying times is hard, sir!
Even harder than
the worst pies in Equestria
Only lard and nothing more
Is that just revolting
All greasy and gritty
It looks like it's molting
And tastes like
Well, pity
A woman alone!
With limited wind
And the worst pies in Equestria!
Sir
Times is hard
Times is hard
"Trust me, dearie, it's gonna take a lot more than ale to wash that taste out. Come with me. We'll get you a nice tumbler of gin, eh?" She walked into a side room and sat down. She patted the seat next to her to signal him to sit.
"Isn't this homey, now? The cheery wallpaper was a real bargain, too. It was only partly singed when the chapel burned down. There you go. You sit down, warm your bones."
"You've a room over the shop here?" He questioned. "Times is so hard, why don't you rent it out?"
"What, up there? No, I won't go near it." she said, eye's full of mystery. People think it's haunted."
" Haunted?"
"Yeah. And who's to say they're wrong? You see, years ago, something happened up there. Something not very nice." She began to sing in a grim voice.
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
"Baker, his name was. Benjamin Baker." She said grimly.
"What was his crime?" He asked soullessly.
"Foolishness."She began to sing again in a somewhat cheery tune.
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 sent her a flower
But did she come down from her tower?
Sat up there and sobbed by the hour
Poor fool
But there was worse yet to come
poor thing
Well, 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 having 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 all right
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 them stood there and laughed
you see
Poor soul
Poor thing...
"No!! Would no one have mercy on her?" Trot shouted.
"So, it is you, Benjamin Baker?"
"Where is Lucy? Where is my wife?" He asked distressed.
"She poisoned herself. Arsenic, from the apothecary around the corner. Tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen to me.
And he's got your daughter." She looked at him.
"He?"
"Judge Turpin. Adopted her. Like his own. Fifteen years."
"I've sweated in a living hell on a false charge. Fifteen years dreaming I might come home to a wife and child." He nearly was sobbing now.
"Well, I can't say the years have been particularly kind to you, Mr. Baker."
"No. Not Baker.
That man is dead.
It's Trot now. Sweeney Trot.
And he will have his revenge."
