Soliloquy Songtext

von Richard Rodgers

I wonder what he'll think of me
I guess he'll call me the old man
I guess he'll think I can lick every other feller's father
Well, I can

I bet that he'll turn out to be
The spittin' image of his dad
But he'll common sense than his puddin' headed father ever had

I'll teach him to wrestle and dive through a wave when we go in the mornings for our swim
His mother can teach him the way to behave but she won't make a sissy out of him
Not him
Not my boy
Not Bill

Bill

My boy Bill, I will see that he's named after me
I will!
My boy Bill, he'll be tall and as tough as a tree
Will Bill!
Like a tree he'll grow with his head held high and his feet planted firm on the ground
And you won't see nobody dare to try to boss him or toss him around
No pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully will boss him around!

I don't give a hang 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, a'hammerin' 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 the heavyweights,
Or a fella that sells you glue,
Or President of the United States
That'd be alright too

His mother would like that. But he wouldn't be President unless he wanted to be!

Not Bill!

My boy Bill, he'll be tall and as tough as a tree
Will Bill!
Like a tree he'll grow with his head held high and his feet planted firm on the ground
And you won't see nobody dare to try to boss him or toss him around
No fat-bottomed, flabby-faced, pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully will boss him around

And I'm hanged if he'll marry his boss's daughter
A skinny-lipped lady with blood like water
Who'll give him a peck and call it a kiss
And look in his eyes through a lorgnette

Say, why am I takin' on like this?

My kid ain't even been born yet.

I can see him when he's seventeen or so
And starting in 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--? What if he is a girl? Oh, Bill. Bill. 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 gotta be a father to a girl

She mightn't be so bad at that
A kid with ribbons in her hair
A kinda sweet and petite little tintype of her mother
What a pair?

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 or three
But my little girl gets hungry every night
And she comes home to me

I gotta get ready before she comes
I gotta make certain that she
Won't be dragged up in slums with a lot of bums like me

She's gotta be sheltered and fed and dressed in the best that money can buy
I never knew how to get money but I'll try, I'll try, I'll try!
I'll go out and make it, or steal it, or take it, or die!