Soliloquy
Frank Sinatra Lyrics


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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 pudding-headed father ever had

I'll teach him to wrestle
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 o' him
Not him! Not my boy! Not Bill

[Chorus:]
Bill, I will see that he is named after me, I will
My boy, Bill! He'll be tall
And 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 or toss him around
No pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully will toss 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, 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 the heavyweights
Or a feller 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!

[Chorus]

And I'll be damned if he'll marry the boss' 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 talkin' on like this?
My kid ain't even been born, yet!

I can see him when he's 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 mightn'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

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 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 dragged up in slums
With a lot of bums like me
She's got to be sheltered
And be dressed in the best 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

Overall Meaning

The song “Soliloquy” by Frank Sinatra is a poignant piece that reflects on the responsibilities and hopes that come with fatherhood. The song is written as a monologue from the perspective of a man who is about to become a father, and he muses on what kind of father he will be and what kind of child his son will be. The lyrics are deeply reflective, and Sinatra does a masterful job of communicating the character’s emotions through his performance.


In the first verse, the man imagines what his son will think of him, imagining that he will be seen as an “old man” who can take on any other father. The second verse speaks of his hope that his son will be like him in some ways, but have more common sense than he did. He goes on to say that he wants to teach his son to be strong and independent, but not a “sissy.” He goes on to describe his vision of his son as a tall and tough man who won’t be pushed around by others.


Line by Line Meaning

I wonder what he'll think of me
I'm anxious about my impression on him


I guess he'll call me the "old man"
He'll probably call me a fatherly figure


I guess he'll think I can lick Every other feller's father Well, I can
He will think I can fight others' fathers and I actually can


I bet that he'll turn out to be The spittin' image of his dad
I assume he'll be very similar to his dad


But he'll have more common sense Than his pudding-headed father ever had
Although like his dad, he'll have more common sense


I'll teach him to wrestle And dive through a wave When we go in the mornings for our swim
I will teach him to swim and wrestle when we go out in the mornings


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
But his mother won't make him a coward, I won't let that happen to my son Bill


[Chorus:] Bill, I will see that he is named after me, I will My boy, Bill! He'll be tall And 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 or toss him around No pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully will toss him around
I will name him after me, call him Bill. He will be tall and robust like a tree, sturdy and unbreakable, no one will boss Bill around


I don't give a damn what he does As long as he does what he likes
I don't care what he grows up to do, as long as he enjoys it


He can sit on his tail Or work on a rail With a hammer, hammering spikes
He can do manual labor like sitting around or working with tools.


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 work in water vessels or carrying a backpack, or even work with a horse and a cart in the streets


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 can operate a scow along the waterways, manage cows in the ranch, or even call out for a carousel ride


He might be a champ of the heavyweights Or a feller 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!
He could become heavyweight champion or even president, but only if it's what he desires. His mother may want him to be President, but the decision is Bill's


[Chorus]
repeated


And I'll be damned if he'll marry the boss' 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 talkin' on like this? My kid ain't even been born yet!
He can't marry the boss's daughter, a frigid girl with no passion who calls a peck on the cheek a kiss while looking through a magnifying glass, but that's a conversation for another time; Bill's not even born yet


I can see him when he's 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
When Bill's nearly 17 and interested in girls, I will teach him how to attract them. But hold on, I can't do that to a girl, will he have a girl instead? However, what kind of good could he do for her, he's broke. Having a son might be enjoyable, but being a girl's father is different


She mightn'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
But maybe having a daughter is not that bad. An adorable little girl with ribbon in her hair who looks like her mother? That would be nice.


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
I can already hear myself tell everyone how great my little girl is. As pink and white as peaches and cream, she'll be half again as smart as other girls.


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
Many potential suitors pursue her, but her father is still her best companion. Although she has a few young friends, she still comes home hungry to her father


I got to get ready before she comes I got to make certain that she won't be dragged up in slums With a lot of bums like me She's got to be sheltered And be 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
I need to prepare prior to my daughter's arrival, making sure she won't grow up like me around poor indigent people. I will promise to provide her with the finest things money can get. I've never understood how to make money but I will do anything required to provide for her safety and comfort, even if it means stealing or dying.




Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC
Written by: Oscar Hammerstein II, Richard Rodgers

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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Mike


on The Lady Is A Champ

eight

She gets too hungry for dinner at eight
She can't eat late and stay up all night, because unlike society types, she has to get up in the morning.

She likes the theatre and never comes late
She cares more about seeing the play than being seen making an entrance.

She never bothers with people she'd hate
Her friends are friends, not social trophies.

Doesn't like crap games with barons or earls
While barrns and earls probably don't play craps, she associates with friends, not people to be seen with.

Won't go to Harlem in ermine and pearls
She doesn't "slum", the practice of the rich in the 30's, when the song was written, of touring poor neighborhoods dressed in rich clothes to "tut, tut" about the deplorable conditions, and congratulate each other for "caring about the poor"

Won't dish the dirt with the rest of the girls
Doesn't trade gossip for acceptance among an in-crowd


She likes the free, fresh wind in her hair
She cares more about how her hair feels than conforming with current hair fashions

Hates California, it's cold and it's damp
Since most of California is noticeably warmer and / or drier than New York, where the play the song was written for is set, this is probably a facetious excuse to like what she likes.


And she won't go to Harlem in Lincoln's or Ford's
Another reference to slumming, but facetious, since Lincolns and Fords were middle-class, not luxury brands when the lyric was written

Anonymous


on Try a Little Tenderness

Here are the correct lyrics

Try A Little Tenderness - Frank Sinatra - Lyrics

Oh she may be weary
Women do get wearied
Wearing that same old shabby dress
And when she’s weary
You try a little tenderness

You know she’s waiting
Just anticipating things she’ll may never possess
While she is without them
Try just a little bit of tenderness

It’s not just sentimental
She has her grieve and her care
And the words that soft and gentle
Makes it easier to bear
You wont regret it
Women don't forget it
Love is their whole happiness
And it’s all so easy
Try a little tenderness

Musical Interlude

And, it’s all so easy
Try a little tenderness

Daniel


on The Way You Look Tonight

I met Frank Jr. in Las Vegas, a real gentleman. RIP you both.

Giorgi Khutashvili


on Theme from New York, New York

)))

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