Carousel: Soliloquy Songtext
von Thomas Hampson

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 fellow'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 mornings for our swim
His mother can teach him the way to behave
But she won't make a sissy out of him
Not him
Not my boy
Not Bill!
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
Will 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
A hammer and 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 the heavyweights
Or a fellow 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 him or toss him around
No fat-bottomed, flabby-faced
Pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bastard
Will boss him around
And I′m 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 taking on like this?
My kid ain't even been born yet
I can see him when he′s seventeen or so
And straddling 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-
He
Is a girl?
Bill?
Oh, Bill
What would I do with her?
What could I do for her?
Me, a bum with no money
You can have fun with a son
But you gotta be a father to a girl
She mightn't be so bad at that
A kid with ribbons in her hair
A kinda neat and petite
Little Tim type of a 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 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 or two
And three
But my little girl
Gets hungry every 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 of 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 steal it
Or take it
Or die!