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 turns 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 wrassle and dive through a wave

When we go in the morning for our swim

His mother can teach him the way to behave

But she won't 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, he'll be tall and 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'll 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 and hammer in 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

[Spoken:]

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 or toss him around!

No fat-bottomed, flabby-faced, pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully'll boss him around

And I'll be damned if he'll marry his boss's 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 been born yet!

I can see him when he's seventeen or so and startin' 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 hell!

What if he is a girl?

You can have fun with a son

But you got to be a father to a girl

She mighn'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 were 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 and three

But my little girl gets hungry ev'ry night and she comes home to me!

I gotta get ready before she comes

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!