Soliloquy

Introdução:    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 feller’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 pudding headed father ever had I’ll teach him to wrassle and dive through   A wave when we go in the mornin’s 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! My boy 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 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 carrousel   Of course it takes talent to do that well He might be a champ of the heavyweights   Or a feller 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 or toss him around! No fat bottomed flabby-faced pot-bellied   Baggy-eyed bastard’ll boss him around! And I’ll be damned if he’ll marry the 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 Say why am I talkin’ on like this? My kid ain’t even been 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 the hell! What if he is a girl?   Bill    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 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 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 ev’ry night and she come home to me! I got to get ready before she comes!   I got to make certain that she won’t be dragged up in slums With a lot o’ bums like  me she’s got to be sheltered   and fed and dressed   In the best 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!