Writer(s): rodgers/hammerstein
I wonder what hell think of me
I guess hell call me the "old man"
I guess hell think I can lick
Evry other fellers father
Well, I can!
I bet that hell turn out to be
The spittin image of his dad
But hell have more common sense
Than his puddin-headed father ever had
Ill teach him to wrassle
And dive through a wave
When we go in the mornins for our swim
His mother can teach him
The way to behave
But she wont 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! hell be tall
And tough as a tree, will bill!
Like a tree hell grow
With his head held high
And his feet planted firm on the ground
And you wont see nobody dare to try
To boss or toss him around!
No pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bullyll toss him around
I dont 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, 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 theheavyweights
Or a feller that sells you glue
Or president of the united states
Thatd be all right, too
His mother would like that
But he wouldnt be president unless he wanted to be
Not bill!
My boy, bill! hell be tall
And as tough as a tree, will bill
Like a tree hell grow
With his head held high
And his feet planted firm on the ground
And you wont see nobody dare to try
To boss or toss him around!
No fat-bottomed, flabby-faced, pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bastardll boss
Him around
And Ill be damned if hell marry the boss daughter
A skinny-lipped virgin with blood like water
Wholl give him a peck
And call it a kiss
And look in his eyes through a lorgnet
Say, why am I talkin on like this?
My kid aint even been born, yet!
I can see him when hes 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?
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 mighnt 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 evry night and she come home to me!
My little girl, my little girl!
I got to get ready before she comes!
I got to make certain that she
Wont be dragged up in slums
With a lot o bums like me
Shes got to be sheltered
And be dressed in the best money can buy!
I never knew how to get money
But, Ill try, by god! Ill try!
Ill go out and make it or steal it
Or take it or die!
