Soliloquy

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
Ev'ry other fella's father
Well, I can!

I bet that he'll turn out to be
The spittin' image of his dad
But he'll have more 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 makе a sissy out o' him
Not him! Not my boy! Not Bill!

Bill

My boy Bill, I will see that he is named after mе, 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 or toss him around!
No pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully
Will boss him around!

I don't 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, a-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 the heavyweights
Or a fella that sells you glue
Or president of the United States
That'd be all right, 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 damned if he'll marry his boss' daughter
A skinny-lipped virgin with blood like water
Who'll give him a peck
And call it a kiss
And look in his eyes through a lorgnette

Hey, why am I takin' on like this?
My kid ain't even born yet!

I can see him when he's 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 if he is a girl? Oh, 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 kind of neat and petite
Little tin-type 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 fellas of two or three
But my little girl
Gets hungry ev'ry 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 o' 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! By God, I'll try!
I'll go out and make it or steal it or take it
Or die!