Soliloquy — текст песни (Frank Sinatra)





Writer(s): rodgers/hammerstein





I wonder what hell think of me

I guess hell call me the "old man"

I guess hell think I can lick

Evry other fellers father

Well, I can!

I bet that hell turn out to be

The spittin image of his dad

But hell have more common sense

Than his puddin-headed father ever had

Ill teach him to wrassle

And dive through a wave

When we go in the mornins for our swim

His mother can teach him

The way to behave

But she wont make a sissy out o him

Not him! not my boy! not bill!

Bill. I will see that he is named after me, I will.

My boy, bill! hell be tall

And tough as a tree, will bill!

Like a tree hell grow

With his head held high

And his feet planted firm on the ground

And you wont see nobody dare to try

To boss or toss him around!

No pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bullyll toss him around

I dont give a damn what he does

As long as he does what he likes!

He can sit on his tail

Or work on a rail

With a hammer, hammering spikes!

He can ferry a boat on a river

Or peddle a pack on his back

Or work up and down

The streets of a town

With a whip and a horse and a hack

He can haul a scow along a canal

Run a cow around a corral

Or maybe bark for a carousel

Of course it takes talent to do that well

He might be a champ of theheavyweights

Or a feller that sells you glue

Or president of the united states

Thatd be all right, too

His mother would like that

But he wouldnt be president unless he wanted to be

Not bill!

My boy, bill! hell be tall

And as tough as a tree, will bill

Like a tree hell grow

With his head held high

And his feet planted firm on the ground

And you wont see nobody dare to try

To boss or toss him around!

No fat-bottomed, flabby-faced, pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bastardll boss

Him around

And Ill be damned if hell marry the boss daughter

A skinny-lipped virgin with blood like water

Wholl give him a peck

And call it a kiss

And look in his eyes through a lorgnet

Say, why am I talkin on like this?

My kid aint even been born, yet!

I can see him when hes seventeen or so

And startin to go with a girl

I can give him lots of pointers, very sound

On the way to get round any girl

I 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 son

But you got to be a father to a girl

She mighnt be so bad at that

A kid with ribbons in her hair!

A kind o neat and petite

Little tin-type of her mother!

What a pair!

I can just hear myself bragging about her!

My little girl

Pink and white

As peaches and cream is she

My little girl

Is half again as bright

As girls are meant to be!

Dozens of boys pursue her

Many a likely lad does what he can to woo her

>from her faithful dad

She has a few

Pink and white young fellers of two and three

But my little girl

Gets 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 she

Wont be dragged up in slums

With a lot o bums like me

Shes got to be sheltered

And be dressed in the best money can buy!

I never knew how to get money

But, Ill try, by god! Ill try!

Ill go out and make it or steal it

Or take it or die!



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