The only way to get what you want is to become a human yourself. Can you do that? My dear sweet child, that's what I do. It's what I live for. To help unfortunate merfolk like yourself. Poor souls with no one else to turn to. I admit that in the past I've been a nasty. They weren't kidding when they called me, well, a witch. But you'll find that nowadays I've mended all my ways. Repented, seen the light and made a switch. Two years. And I fortunately know a little magic. It's a talent that I always have possessed. And dear lady, please don't laugh. I use it on behalf of the miserable, lonely and depressed. Pathetic. Poor, unfortunate souls. In pain, in need. This one longing to be thinner. That one wants to get the girl. And do I help them? Yes, indeed. Those poor, unfortunate souls. So sad, so true. They come flocking to my cauldron crying, Spells, Ursula, please. And I help them. Yes, I do. Now it's happened once or twice. I couldn't pay the price. And I'm afraid I had to rake them across the gold. Yes, I've had the odd complaint. But on the whole I've been a saint. To those poor, unfortunate souls. Have we got a deal? If I become human, I'll never be with my father or sisters again. But you'll have your man. Life's full of tough choices, isn't it? Oh, and there is one more thing. We haven't discussed the subject of payment. But I don't have... I'm not asking about just a token, really. A trifle. What I want from you is your voice. But without my voice, how can I... You'll have your looks. Your pretty face. And don't underestimate the importance of body language. The men up there don't like a lot of blabber. They think a girl who gossips is a bore. Yet on land it's much preferred for ladies not to say a word. And after all, dear, what is idle prattle for? Come on, they're not all that impressed with conversation. True gentlemen avoid it when they can. But they don't inform on a lady who's withdrawn. She who holds her tongue who gets a man. Come on, you poor unfortunate soul. Go ahead. Make your choice. I'm a very busy woman and I haven't got all day. It won't cost much. Just your voice. You poor unfortunate soul. It's sad, but true. If you want to cross a bridge, my sweet, you've got to pay the toll. Take a gulp and take a breath and go ahead and sign the scroll. Flotsam, jetsam, now I've got her, boys. The boss is on a roll. This poor unfortunate soul. Palluga, cerruda, come winds of the Caspian Sea. Thou ring'st us, glositis, etnax, laryngitis, la voce to me. Now sing. Keep singing! Keep singing! Keep singing!