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Soliloquy
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John Raitt
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I wonder what he'll think of me
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I guess he'll call me the "old man"
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I guess he'll think I can lick
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Every other feller's father
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Well, I can!
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I bet that he'll turn out to be
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The spittin' image of his dad
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But he'll have more common sense
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Than his puddin-headed father ever had
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I'll teach him to wrestle
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And dive through a wave
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When we go in the mornin's for our swim
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His mother can teach him
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The way to behave
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But she won't make a sissy out o' him
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Not him! Not my boy! Not Bill!
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Bill, my boy Bill
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I will see that he is named after me, I will.
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My boy, Bill! He'll be tall
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And tough as a tree, will Bill!
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Like a tree he'll grow
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With his head held high
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And his feet planted firm on the ground
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And you won't see nobody dare to try
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To boss or toss him around!
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No pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully
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Will boss him around.
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I don't give a hang what he does
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As long as he does what he likes!
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He can sit on his tail
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Or work on a rail
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With a hammer, hammering spikes!
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He can ferry a boat on a river
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Or peddle a pack on his back
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Or work up and down
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The streets of a town
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With a whip and a horse and a hack.
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He can haul a scow along a canal
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Run a cow around a corral
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Or maybe bark for a carousel
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Of course it takes talent to do that well.
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Aha-ha-ha-ha!
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He might be a champ of the heavyweights,
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Or a feller that sells you glue,
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Or President of the United States,
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That'd be all right, too
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His mother would like that
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But he wouldn't be President if he didn't wanna be!
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Not Bill!
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My boy, Bill! He'll be tall
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And as tough as a tree, will Bill
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Like a tree he'll grow
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With his head held high
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And his feet planted firm on the ground
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And you won't see nobody dare to try
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To boss him or toss him around!
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No fat-bottomed, flabby-faced,
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Pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully
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Will boss him around.
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And I'm hanged if he'll marry his boss' daughter
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A skinny-lipped virgin with blood like water
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Who'll give him a peck
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And call it a kiss
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And look in his eyes through a lorgnette...
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Hey, why am I talkin' on like this?
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My kid ain't even been born, yet!
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I can see him when he's seventeen or so,
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And startin' to go with a girl
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I can give him lots of pointers, very sound
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On the way to get 'round any girl
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I can tell him
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Wait a minute!
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Could it be?
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What the hell!
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What if he is a girl?
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What would I do with her?
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What could I do for her?
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A bum with no money!
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You can have fun with a son
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But you gotta be a father to a girl
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She mightn't be so bad at that
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A kid with ribbons in her hair!
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A kind o' sweet and petite
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Little tin-type of her mother!
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What a pair!
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My little girl
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Pink and white
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As peaches and cream is she
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My little girl
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Is half again as bright
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As girls are meant to be!
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Dozens of boys pursue her
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Many a likely lad does what he can to woo her
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From her faithful dad
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She has a few
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Pink and white young fellers of two or three
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But my little girl
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Gets hungry every night and she comes home to me!
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I got to get ready before she comes!
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I got to make certain that she
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Won't be dragged up in slums
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With a lot o' bums like me
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She's got to be sheltered
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In a fair hand dressed
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In the best that money can buy!
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I never knew how to get money,
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But, I'll try, I'll try! I'll try!
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I'll go out and make it or steal it
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Or take it or die!
John Raitt - Soliloquy (1952)
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