Babes in Arms Page #3

You call talent excess baggage?

Dad, there's a lot of entertainment

on this side of the room.

You folks are responsible for it.

We're your kids, chips off the old block.

Most of us were born in theaters,

greasepaint in our veins.

You say you don't want us

to go on a stage. No.

You want us to be lawyers and brokers

and your girls to marry rich guys.

- I suppose that's bad being a broker.

- Clark Gable ain't on relief.

- You're too young, all of you.

- Oh, yeah?

I suppose I'm too young

to sell a song I wrote.

Look, 100 bucks in advance.

- What?

- Mickey, you sold your song.

- Yeah, Mom, and it's all yours too.

- Oh, Mickey, I'm so proud of you.

- Thanks.

- Of course, I always knew you had talent.

Well, so do the other kids.

I've seen them do their stuff.

Take our sister for instance.

What a voice, a natural.

Two more years and she'll be in the Met.

Patsy and Don Jr. and Dody

are swell dancers.

- But our acts are routine, they're standard.

- I'll say they're standard.

So standard that when you miss a line

the audience can prompt you.

All right, I'm sorry.

I don't mean to be fresh,

but I've got a new slant on things.

Got my finger on the pulse of the public.

You wanna hear something?

Molly and Patsy come on over here.

Look out. Spread out kids,

give us room to work here, will you?

Get set. We'll show them

whether we got talent or not.

Wait, until you hear,

this will send you solid.

Now, come on, kids, give your all.

To look at us you'd never dream

The two of us were twins

In fact it's quite ridiculously odd

But speaking pedagogically

And not too biologically

We're really just like two peas in a pod

We both like to swim

And we both like to dance

We both could fall in love with Gable

If we had the chance

Our tastes are just the same

Except for just one thing

I like opera

I like swing

We both like to eat

But it pains us to discuss

The fact we like potatoes

But potatoes don't like us

But when we want to sing a song

We're really on a spot

For I sing sweet

And I sing hot

You are my lucky star

My darling, you're my lucky star

I saw you from afar

Rudolpho

Robert Taylor

Minneapolis and St. Paul

You are

My lucky star

Once there was a barber

A barber who lived in Spain

He was a barbering fool,

A shaving fool, shaving fool from Spain

He was kind of crazy,

He was always singing in the rain

His name was Figaro

The barber of Seville

Figaro

Figaro

Figaro was Spanish

Every time there's a bullfight

He quits

Shave and a hair cut, six bits

Hi de ho Figaro, Hi de ho Figaro

Hi de ho ho de ho fig fig Figaro

Hi de ho Figaro, Hi de ho Figaro

Hi de ho ho de ho fig fig Figaro

Figaro

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