Soliloquy (from "Carousel")

Soliloquy (神々が戀した幻想郷) - Frank Sinatra (弗蘭克·辛納屈)

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 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

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 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 even 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 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

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 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

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 take it

Or steal it or die