Soliloquy (Parts 1 & 2)

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 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 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's named after me I will 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 him 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 carry a pale or work on a rail With a hammer, and hammer some 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 feller who sells you glue Or President of the United States Hmm? That'd be alright, too His mother would like that Yes, sir 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 He 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 him or toss him around No flat-footed, flabby-faced, bully'll boss him around And I'm damned if he'll marry his boss' daughter A skinny-lipped wench 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 heck! What if he is a girl? Well, 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 When I have a daughter, I'll stand around in ballrooms Oh, how I'll boast and blow Friends'll see me comin' And empty all the ballrooms Through every door they'll go Weary of hearin', day after day The same old things that I always say 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 comes home to me I got to get ready before she comes I got to make certain that she Won't be brought up in slums With a lot of bums like me She's got to be sheltered and fed and dressed With the best that money can buy I never knew how to get money But, I'll try, by Gosh! I'll try I'll go out and make it or steal it Or take it or die