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Soliloquy

  • Исполнитель:

    Frank Sinatra
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  • Текст, перевод и аккорды “Soliloquy”

  • 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!

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