Some Modern Songs That Mention Shakespeare in Them...
Brush Up Your Shakepeare
Written by: Cole Porter
From the Show: Kiss Me Kate 1948
Lyrics:
(Intro)
The girls today in society.
Go for classical poetry.
So to win their hearts one must quote (with ease).
Aeschylus and Euripides.
One must know Homer and, b'lieve me, Bo.
Sophocles... also Sappho-ho!
Unless you know Shelley and Keats and Pope.
Dainty debbies will call you a dope.
But the poet of them all
Who will start 'em simply ravin'.
Is the poet people call.
The bard of Stratford-on-Avon!
(Refrain)
Brush up your Shakespeare.
Start quoting him now.
Brush up your Shakespeare.
And the women you will wow.
Just declaim a few lines from "Othella".
And they'll think you're a helluva fella.
If your blonde won't respond when you flatter 'er.
Tell her what Tony told Cleopaterer!
If she fights when her clothes you are mussing...
What are clothes? "Much Ado About Nussing!"
Brush up your Shakespeare.
And they'll all kowtow.
Brush up your Shakespeare.
Start quoting him now.
Brush up your Shakespeare.
And the women you will wow.
With the wife of the British ambessida.
Try a crack out of "Troilus and Cressida."
If she says she won't buy it or tike it.
Make her tike it, what's more, "As You Like It."
If she says your behavior is heinous.
Kick her right in the "Coriolanus!"
Brush up your Shakespeare.
And they'll all kowtow.
Brush up your Shakespeare.
Start quoting him now.
Brush up your Shakespeare.
And the women you will wow.
If you can't be a ham and do "Hamlet".
They will not give a damn or a damnlet.
Just recite an occasional sonnet.
And your lap'll have "Honey" upon it.
When your baby is pleading for pleasure.
Let her sample your "Measure For Measure!"
Brush up your Shakespeare.
And they'll all kowtow.
Brush up your Shakespeare.
Start quoting him now.
Brush up your Shakespeare.
And the women you will wow.
Better mention "The Merchant Of Venice".
When her sweet pound o' flesh you would menace.
If her virtue, at first, she defends---well.
Just remind her that "All's Well That Ends Well"!
And if still she won't give you a bonus.
You know what Venus got from Adonis!
Brush up your Shakespeare.
And they'll all kowtow.
Brush up your Shakespeare.
Start quoting him now.
Brush up your Shakespeare.
And the women you will wow.
If your goil is a Washington Heights dream.
Treat the kid to "A Midsummer Night's Dream."
If she then wants an all-by-herself night.
Let her rest ev'ry 'leventh or "Twelfth Night."
If because of your heat she gets huffy.
Simply play on and "Lay on, Macduffy!"
Brush up your Shakespeare.
And they'll all kowtow.
Brush up your Shakespeare.
Start quoting him now.
Brush up your Shakespeare.
And the women you will wow.
So tonight just recite to your matey,
"Kiss me, Kate. Kiss me, Kate. Kiss me, Katey!"
Brush up your Shakespeare.
And they'll all kowtow.
Cherry Pies Ought To Be You
Artist: Frank Sinatra and Rosemary Clooney
Written by: Cole Porter
From the Show: Out Of This World 1951
Lyrics:
Sung by Frank Sinatra
with (Rosemary Clooney)
[both Frank and Rosemary]
Oh by Jove and by Jehovah, you have set my heart aflame,
(And to you, you Casanova, my reactions are the same.)
I would sing thee tender verses but the flair, alas, I lack.
(Oh go on, try to versify and I'll versify back)
Well, let me see now, Cherry Pies ought to be you,
(Autumn skies ought to be you)
The Pulitzer prize ought to you,
(Romeo in disguise ought to be you,)
Columbine ought to be you,
(Sparkling wine ought to be you)
All of Beethoven's Nine ought to be you
(Every Will Shakespeare line ought to be you.)
You are so enticing, I'm starting to shake,
(You are just the icing to put on my cake)
You mean I'm yummy, heaven's blue ought to be you
(Heaven too ought to be you.)
Everything super-do ought to be you.
Ashe Pudells ought to be you
(Orson Wells ought to be you)
Uncles like Kip Cornell ought to be you.
(Towels from Ritz hotel ought to be you)
Each Snow White ought to be you
(Ambrose' light) hey, that's good (ought to be you)
Eleanor wrong or right ought to be you.
(Errol Flynn loose or tight) watch it ( ought to be you)
You are so exciting, I can't even laugh, wanna top that one
(If you're fond of biting, I'll bite you in half.)
To continue, Whistler's ma ought to be you
(Eliot's pa ought to be you)
Everything hip-hurrah ought to be you
(Ought to be you), ought to be you, (ought to be you)
Ought to be you (ought to be you) ought to be you (ought to be you)
[Ought to be you!]
MAKE 'EM LAUGH
(Nacio Herb Brown/Arthur Freed)
Donald O'Connor
Make em laugh, make em laugh,
Don't you know all the world wants to laugh, aha!
My dad said be an actor my son,
but be a comical one!
They'll be standing in lines,
For those old honky tonk monkeyshines!
Now you can study Shakespeare and be quite alight,
and you can charm the critics and have nothing to eat,
Just slip on a banana peel,
The worlds at your feet!
Make em laugh, make em laugh, make em laugh!
Make... make em laugh,
Don't you know everyone wants to laugh,
My grandpa said go out and tell em a joke,
But give it plenty of hope!
Make em roar, make em scream,
Take a fall but a Walsh would it seem,
It's not of by pretending you're a dancer with grace,
You wiggle till they giggle and all over the place,
And then you get a great big custard pie in the face,
Make em laugh, make em laugh, make em laugh!
They'll be standing in lines,
For those old honky tonk monkey shines,
ahahahahahahahahahaha!
Make em laugh, make em laugh, make em laugh, (2x)
ROAD TO MOROCCO
From the film "Road To Morocco" (1942)
(Johnny Burke / Jimmy Van Heusen)
Bing Crosby & Bob Hope - 1944
We're off on the road to Morocco
This camel is tough on the spine (hit me with a band-aid, Dad)
Where they're goin', why we're goin', how can we be sure
I'll lay you eight to five that we'll meet Dorothy Lamour (yeah, get in line)
Off on the road to Morocco
Hang on till the end of the line (I like your jockey. Quiet)
I hear this country's where they do the dance of the seven veils
We'd tell you more (uh-ah) but we would have the censor on our tails (good boy)
We certainly do get around
Like Webster's Dictionary we're Morocco bound
We're off on the road to Morocco
Well look out, well clear the way, 'cause here we come
Stand by for a concussion
The men eat fire, sleep on nails and saw their wives in half
It seems to me there should be easier ways to get a laugh
(shall I slip on my big shoes?)
Off on the road to Morocco
Hooray! Well blow a horn, everybody duck
Yeah. it's a green light, come on boys
We may run into villains but we're not afraid to roam
Because we read the story and we end up safe at home (yeah)
Certainly do get around
Like Webster's Dictionary we're Morocco bound
We certainly do get around
Like a complete set of Shakespeare that you get
in the corner drugstore for a dollar ninety-eight
We're Morocco bound
Or, like a volume of Omar Khayyam that you buy in the
department store at Christmas time for your cousin Julia
We're Morocco bound
(we could be arrested)
THAT'S WHY (I LOVE YOU SO)
Jackie Wilson
(Gordy/Carlo/Gordy)
The way you make me feel like I belong
The way you make me right when I am wrong
The way you sacrifice just for me
Just how lucky can a poor man be?
That is why...
(That's why I love you so)
That is why...
(That's why I love you so)
Don't you know, baby...
(That's why I love you so)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I want the world to know.
The way you rub my back when I'm in pain.
The way you soothe me so I won't complain
And when you kiss me with your ruby red lips.
It thrills me so, I turn a back-over flip.
That is why...
(That's why I love you so)
Don't you know, baby...
(That's why I love you so)
That is why...
(That's why I love you so)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I want the world to know.
If Shakespeare thought that Juliet
Really loved Romeo from the time they met,
He would blow his top if he could see
Just how you've been lovin' me.
The way you rub my back when I'm in pain
The way you soothe me so I won't complain
And when you kiss me with your ruby red lips.
It thrills me so, I turn a back-over flip.
That is why...
(That's why I love you so)
That is why...
(That's why I love you so)
C'mon now, baby...
(That's why I love you so)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I want to take it easy, baby...
(That's why I love you so)
Take it easy, honey...
(That's why I love you so)
Don't you know now...
(That's why I love you so)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I want the... one more time, now...
(That's why I love you so)
C'mon, c'mon, baby...
(That's why I love you so)
FADE
THAT'S ENTERTAINMENT
(Howard Dietz/Arthur Schwartz)
The clown with his pants falling down
Or the dance that's a dream of romance
Or the scene where the villain is mean
That's entertainment!
The lights on the lady in tights
Or the bride with the guy on the side
Or the ball where she gives him a roar
That's entertainment!
The plot can be hot, simply teeming with sex
A gay divorcee who is after her ex
It can be Oedipus Rex
Where a chap kills his father
And causes a lot of bother
The clerk who is thrown out of work
By the boss who is thrown for a loss
By this girl who is doing him dirt
The world is a stage,
The stage is a world of entertainment!
It might be a fight like you see on the screen
A swain getting slain for the lot of a queen
Some great Shakespearean scene
Where a ghost and a prince meet
And everyone ends in mincemeats
The gag may be waving the flag
That began with a mystical hand
Hip hooray, the American way
The world is a stage,
The stage is a world of entertainment!
You're The Top
(short version)
Written by: Cole Porter
From the Show: Anything Goes 1934 (S)
Lyrics:
(Intro)
At words poetic I'm so pathetic
That I always have found it best
Instead of getting 'em off my chest,
To let 'em rest - unexpressed.
I hate parading my serenading,
As I'll probably miss a bar,
But if this ditty is not so pretty,
At least it'll tell you how great you are.
You're the top! you're the Collosseum,
You're the top! you're the Louvre Museum,
You're the melody from a symphony by Strauss,
You're a Bendel bonnet,
A Shakespeare Sonnet,
You're Mickey Mouse!
You're the Nile! You're the Tow'r of Pisa,
You're the smile, on the Mona Lisa!
I'm a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop!
But if baby I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
You're the top, you're Mahatma Gandhi,
You're the top! you're Napoleon brandy,
You're the purple light, of a summer night in Spain,
You're the National Gallery, you're Garbo's salary,
You're cellophane!
You're sublime, you're a turkey dinner,
You're the time, of the Derby Winner,
I'm a toy balloon that's fated soon to pop;
But if baby I'm by the bottom you're the top!
You're the top, you're a Waldorf salad
You're the top, you're a Berlin ballad
You're the nimble tread of the feet of Fred Astaire
You're an O'Neill drama, you're Whistler's mama, you're camembert
You're a rose, you're inferno's Dante
You're the nose, on the great Durante
I'm a masy leroux who's just about to stop
But if baby I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
You're The Top
(longer version)
Sung by: Ethel Merman
Words and music by Cole Porter.
(Verse 1)
At words poetic, I'm so pathetic
That I always have found it best,
Instead of getting 'em off my chest,
To let 'em rest unexpressed.
I hate parading my serenading
As I'll probably miss a bar,
But if this ditty is not so pretty,
At least it'll tell you how great you are.
(chorus 1)
You're the top! You're the Colosseum,
You're the top! You're the Louvre Museum,
You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss,
You're a Bendel bonnet, a Shakespeare sonnet,
You're Mickey Mouse.
You're the Nile, You're the Tow'r of Pisa,
You're the smile on the Mona Lisa.
I'm a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top[!
(verse 2)
Your words poetic are not pathetic
On the other hand, boy, you shine
And I can feel after every line
A thrill divine down my spine.
Now gifted humans like Vincent Youmans
Might think that your song is bad,
But for a person who's just rehearsin'
Well I gotta say this my lad:
(chorus 2)
You're the top! You're Mahatma Ghandi.
You're the top! You're Napolean brandy.
You're the purple light of a summer night in Spain,
You're the National Gall'ry, You're Garbo's sal'ry,
You're cellophane.
You're sublime, You're a turkey dinner.
You're the time of the Derby winner.
I'm a toy balloon that is fated soon to pop.
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
(chorus 3)
You're the top! You're a Ritz hot toddy.
You're the top! You're a Brewster body.
You're the boats that glide on the sleepy Zuider Zee,
You're a Nathan Panning, You're Bishop Manning,
You're broccoli.
You're a prize, You're a night at Coney,
You're the eyes of Irene Bordoni,
I'm a broken doll, a fol-de-rol, a blop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top.
(chorus 4)
You're the top! You're an Arrow collar.
You're the top! You're a Coolidge dollar.
You're the nimble tread of the feet of Fred Astaire,
You're an O'Neill drama, You're Whistler's mama,
You're Camembert.
You're a rose, You're Inferno's Dante,
You're the nost of the great Durante.
I'm just in the way, as the French would say
"De trop,"
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top.
(chorus 5)
You're the top! You're a Waldorf salad.
You're the top! You're a Berlin ballad.
You're a baby grand of a lady and a gent.
You're an old dutch master, You're Mrs. Aster,
You're Pepsodent.
You're romance, You're the steppes of Russia,
You're the pants on a Roxy usher.
I'm a lazy lout that's just about to stop,
But if Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
(chorus 6)
You're the top! You're a dance in Bali.
You're the top! You're a hot tamale.
You're an angel, you simply too, too, too diveen,
You're a Botticelli, You're Keats, You're Shelley,
You're Ovaltine.
You're a boon, You're the dam at Boulder,
You're the moon over Mae West's shoulder.
I'm a nominee of the G.O.P. or GOP,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
(chorus 7)
You're the top! You're the Tower of Babel.
You're the top! You're the Whitney Stable.
By thje River Rhine, You're a sturdy stein of beer,
You're a dress from Saks's, You're next year's taxes,'
You're stratosphere.
You're my thoist, You're a Drumstick Lipstick,
You're da foist in da Irish svipstick,
I'm a frightened frog that can find no log to hop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
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