Frank Sinatra - Soliloquy Lyrics
Writer(s): rodgers/hammersteinI wonder what hell think of meI guess hell call me the old manI guess hell think I can lickEvry other fellers fatherWell, I can!I bet that hell turn out to beThe spittin image of his dadBut hell have more common senseThan his puddin-headed father ever hadIll teach him to wrassleAnd dive through a waveWhen we go in the mornins for our swimHis mother can teach himThe way to behaveBut she wont make a sissy out o himNot him! not my boy! not bill!Bill. I will see that he is named after me, I will.My boy, bill! hell be tallAnd tough as a tree, will bill!Like a tree hell growWith his head held highAnd his feet planted firm on the groundAnd you wont see nobody dare to tryTo boss or toss him around!No pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bullyll toss him aroundI dont give a damn what he doesAs long as he does what he likes!He can sit on his tailOr work on a railWith a hammer, hammering spikes!He can ferry a boat on a riverOr peddle a pack on his backOr work up and downThe streets of a townWith a whip and a horse and a hackHe can haul a scow along a canalRun a cow around a corralOr maybe bark for a carouselOf course it takes talent to do that wellHe might be a champ of theheavyweightsOr a feller that sells you glueOr president of the united statesThatd be all right, tooHis mother would like thatBut he wouldnt be president unless he wanted to beNot bill!My boy, bill! hell be tallAnd as tough as a tree, will billLike a tree hell growWith his head held highAnd his feet planted firm on the groundAnd you wont see nobody dare to tryTo boss or toss him around!No fat-bottomed, flabby-faced, pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bastardll bossHim aroundAnd Ill be damned if hell marry the boss daughterA skinny-lipped virgin with blood like waterWholl give him a peckAnd call it a kissAnd look in his eyes through a lorgnetSay, why am I talkin on like this?My kid aint even been born, yet!I can see him when hes seventeen or soAnd startin to go with a girlI can give him lots of pointers, very soundOn the way to get round any girlI can tell him ...Wait a minute!Could it be?What the hell!What if he is a girl?What would I do with her?What could I do for her?A bum with no money!You can have fun with a sonBut you got to be a father to a girlShe mighnt be so bad at thatA kid with ribbons in her hair!A kind o neat and petiteLittle tin-type of her mother!What a pair!I can just hear myself bragging about her!My little girlPink and whiteAs peaches and cream is sheMy little girlIs half again as brightAs girls are meant to be!Dozens of boys pursue herMany a likely lad does what he can to woo her>from her faithful dadShe has a fewPink and white young fellers of two and threeBut my little girlGets hungry evry night and she come home to me!My little girl, my little girl!I got to get ready before she comes!I got to make certain that sheWont be dragged up in slumsWith a lot o bums like meShes got to be shelteredAnd be dressed in the best money can buy!I never knew how to get moneyBut, Ill try, by god! Ill try!Ill go out and make it or steal itOr take it or die!
