Give me your girls of pleasure
Show me you wares and measure
Sample them at my liesure
Now I′ve made my way where I get to play
Cannon fodder lying in the field below the castle
Is this the third week or the fourth week of the siege
The air filled with the stench
Whoever pays the most I call my liege
Summoned here to Paris now, I'm far away from battle
From clotting blood and rotting wounds of dead and dying men
I′ll make sure this is true
I will never go back again
(Frollo and Phoebus speaking)
Stopping them and thier proliferation
Paris looks to us (To us!)
To rid her streets of crime (To rid her streets of crime)