โหลดเพลง mp3 Soliloquy (parts 1 & 2) - Frank Sinatra

Soliloquy (parts 1 & 2) - Frank Sinatra
I wonder what think he'll 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 spitting 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!

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 toss him around

don't give I a damn what he does
As long as he does what he likes!
He can sit on his tail
Or work on a rail
a hammer, With 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 even 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

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, Bill will
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,
boss him around

And I'll be damned if he'll marry the 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 lorgnet

Say, why am I talking on like this?

My kid ain't even been born yet

I can see him when he's seventeen or so

And starting to go with a girl

I can give him lots of pointers, very sound

On the way to get around 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 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!

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 every 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 be 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!