When I grow up, I don’t want to be a fireman.
That’s just kid stuff – just kid stuff.
When I grow up, I don’t want to be a policeman.
They’re not tough enough – not tough enough.
When I grow up, I don’t want to work for the city.
My old man says it takes too much outta ya –
The unions botta ya –
So I don’t care to be mayor like LaGuardia.
When I grow up I ‘ve got my plans, see.
They may not be so high-class or fancy
As some people may wish –
But boy, it’s just my dish –
I wouldn’t want to be an A-man, or a B-man, or a
C-man, or a D-man, or an E-man or an F-man –
Get it?
Gee, but I’d like to be a G-man
And go bang-bang-bang!-bang!
I’d be a brave, gang-busting he-man
And go bang-bang-bang-bang!
I’d put on disguises of all different sizes,
And would I win prizes
For telling who spieses.
Gee, but I’d like to be a G-man
And go bang-bang-bang-bang!
(Stick ‘em up, bud!)
And go bang-bang-bang-bang!
(Come clean, you rat!)
And go bang-bang-bang-bang!
I’d be known in all the bright spots of New York,
Like Twenty-one and Eighteen and the Stork.
To all the smartest night spots I would go
To find out all the things that a G-man ought to know.
(Tra-la-la-la-la. Tra-la-la-la-la).
And after I’d gone out an got my man,
To Palm Beach I would go to get my tan.
Though making merry, I’d be fancy free,
‘Cause Mrs. Winchell’s boy would be looking out for me!
Gee, but I’d like to be a G-man,
And go bang-bang-bang-bang!
Just like Dick Tracy, what a he-man,
And go bang-bang-bang-bang
I’d do as I please, act high-handed and regal,
‘Cause when you’re a G-man, there’s nothing illegal.
Gee, but I’d like to be a G-man
And go bang-bang-bang-bang!
(They got me, pal!)
That’s just kid stuff – just kid stuff.
When I grow up, I don’t want to be a policeman.
They’re not tough enough – not tough enough.
When I grow up, I don’t want to work for the city.
My old man says it takes too much outta ya –
The unions botta ya –
So I don’t care to be mayor like LaGuardia.
When I grow up I ‘ve got my plans, see.
They may not be so high-class or fancy
As some people may wish –
But boy, it’s just my dish –
I wouldn’t want to be an A-man, or a B-man, or a
C-man, or a D-man, or an E-man or an F-man –
Get it?
Gee, but I’d like to be a G-man
And go bang-bang-bang!-bang!
I’d be a brave, gang-busting he-man
And go bang-bang-bang-bang!
I’d put on disguises of all different sizes,
And would I win prizes
For telling who spieses.
Gee, but I’d like to be a G-man
And go bang-bang-bang-bang!
(Stick ‘em up, bud!)
And go bang-bang-bang-bang!
(Come clean, you rat!)
And go bang-bang-bang-bang!
I’d be known in all the bright spots of New York,
Like Twenty-one and Eighteen and the Stork.
To all the smartest night spots I would go
To find out all the things that a G-man ought to know.
(Tra-la-la-la-la. Tra-la-la-la-la).
And after I’d gone out an got my man,
To Palm Beach I would go to get my tan.
Though making merry, I’d be fancy free,
‘Cause Mrs. Winchell’s boy would be looking out for me!
Gee, but I’d like to be a G-man,
And go bang-bang-bang-bang!
Just like Dick Tracy, what a he-man,
And go bang-bang-bang-bang
I’d do as I please, act high-handed and regal,
‘Cause when you’re a G-man, there’s nothing illegal.
Gee, but I’d like to be a G-man
And go bang-bang-bang-bang!
(They got me, pal!)
envoyé par Bernart Bartleby - 10/2/2016 - 13:38
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Parole e musica di Harold Rome
Credo che però la melodia riprenda, parodisticamente, quella di “Gee, But I'd Like to Make You Happy” (di Larry Shay, Ward & Montgomery), successo del 1930.
Testo trovato su Labor Arts
Harold Rome (1908-1993) è stato un famoso compositore e autore americano di musical. Ebbe un grande successo a Broadway a cominciare dal secondo dopoguerra, ma già prima era diventato noto per aver realizzato la rivista musicale “Pins and Needles”, commissionatagli dal sindacato International Ladies' Garment Workers' Union (ILGWU), con le stesse lavoratrici e lavoratori come protagonisti, “the only hit ever produced by a labor union, and the only time when a group of unknown non-professionals brought a successful musical to Broadway” (John Kenrick)
Questa canzone di Harold Rome è è diretta contro John Edgar Hoover che all’epoca era già direttore dell’FBI da oltre 14 anni, e lo sarebbe stato per altri 34, fino al 1972… Mezzo secolo di potere totale ed incondizionato interrotto soltanto dalla morte… Un vero sceriffo, un G-man, che usò il pugno di ferro, e parecchio piombo, non solo contro gangster e mafia ma pure contro comunisti, radicali ed oppositori politici in genere…