Bye Bye Birdie Page #7

Have my own way

I may break

A heart a day

Drink champagne

As if it were water

Pink champagne

And after a few

Daddy dear

You won't know your daughter

She's got a lot of livin'

To do

Think I'll be

A ring-a-ding drummer

Make each week

A thousand or two

Gorgeous girls

Will beg for my number

Hey, I've got a lot of livin' to do

Yes, I'm gonna break out

Gonna take off

Gonna be free

This town is awfully square

for a cat like me

Or I'll be

A super jet pilot

Fly me high

Way out in the blue

And then they'll see

I'm no shrinkin' violet

Hey, I've got a lot of livin' to do

I got a lot of livin'

To do

- There's music to play

- Places to go

People to see

Ah, everything for you and me

Life's a ball

If only you know it

Yeah, and it's all

just waitin' for you

Oh, you're alive

So come on and show it

Yeah, we got a lot of livin'

Such a lot of livin'

Tonight's the night

we're gonna fly

Let's kick this hick town

into high

I want a taste of everything

Let's live it up and really swing

Got a lot of livin', livin'

Livin', livin'

Livin' to do

Live!

But you needn't bite my head off.

I only ask a civil question.

Ten times you've asked me.

I don't know why they've changed

to this slow dance for the TV.

But if Albert can't get him

to cut it shorter...

tomorrow night

I won't be on Ed Sullivan.

Neither will Kim.

You know how much it means to her.

- How about m...

- Well, anyway...

Albert's still in with the managers,

so that's a good sign.

If Eisenhower couldn't handle

the Russians, how is Albert?

Long live Joseph Stalin.

I mean, Stalin lived too long.

Long live Khrushchev.

Save your life? Me?

My triend,

it you are sick, see a doctor.

If you're sick, see a doctor.

You speak English?

It saves time.

What can I do for you,

uh, Mr. Peterson?

Sir, I have come to appeal to you.

That ballet... the one

that you're doing on TV tomorrow night...

Da, for Mr. Ed Sullivan.

Yeah. That's the one.

Could you just cut that four minutes?

Well, it's beautiful. I love it,

but my life depends on it.

Desecrate this classic?

I need the time

for Conrad Birdie to sing my song.

Who sent you here?

Senator Goldwater?

Will you cut three minutes?

Two minutes?

A minute and a halt.

To cut even ten seconds

would be artistic sabotage.

This ballet

has historic significance.

It was performed the same day

as the funeral of the czar.

Lenin himself made the arrangement.

- Lenin arranged music?

- No! Funerals!

- Hello, Rose.

- Oh, hi, Kim. You still up?

Oh, I'm so miserable, Rose.

I've lost Hugo, and now I'm not even

going to be on TV.

Why not?

The ballet's taking tour extra minutes,

so Birdie's song and the kiss are out.

Oh, serves Albert right.

Oh, now come on. Relax.

Faithless men like Albert and Hugo...

they're all alike...

from puberty to stupidity...

from Benedict Arnold to Mussolini.

Men. We laugh at them, right?

It's easy for you to pick up

the pieces of your shattered dream.

You've tound a compensation.

Ah, that Claude Paisley

is just too much.

He's too much, all right.

But I won't mention of what.

All that charm... so genteel...

so educated, so underhanded!

You mean Mr. Paisley's like

all the rest?

I thought he was the marrying type.

Oh, he is.

He wanted to elope tonight.

And you know what?

He'd like to live in New York.

Uh, not to teach...

to be a songwriter.

A songwriter?

He's all the things

I want to get away from.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I never dreamed that Mr. Paisley,

of all men...

Oh, well. Men.

They're only out to use us, Kim.

I know. Hugo's used me

since we were freshman.

All those years I wasted

on Albert.

Rosie the dependable one,

Rosie the patient one...

Rosie the good girl.

I know it sounds old-tashioned,

but I'm not ashamed to admit it.

- I'm still a good girl.

- Rose?

- Hmm?

- So am I.

No kidding?

Well, you won't be sorry.

- Are you going out so late?

- Mm-hmm.

My farewell to Sweet Apple... a night

to remember. I'm going to Maude's Cate.

Maude's? That's a wild place.

You're not gonna do anything rash?

Whatever you hear about me, Kim...

just tell them that

she loved not wisely, but too well.

This is the place, Albert...

hottest spot in the county.

- How do you know?

- Oh, I heard... only heard.

Albert, don't go in that place.

- I must. It's the only way.

- But drinking won't solve anything.

He's frustrated.

Good-bye. Thanks.

I'd go in there with ya

it I weren't a happy family man...

and not allowed to enjoy myself.

Oh, please, Mister, I...

Oh, my arm!

- I just want to...

- I'm telling you for the last time!

- All I want is a drink.

- No drinks! Now get lost!

Well, just a pint ot bourbon?

Gin? Scotch?

Well, how about a malted

with a little vodka?

Come back when you're 21.

Oh, well, I'm way over 21. I only

look young from too much drinkin'.

Oh, look at me.

Look at the shell of a human being...

the monster you've created.

Oh, I'm sorry about... Uh, Hugo,

don't worry. You'll get Kim back.

No, thanks.

The bloom is off the rose.

Rose. Little Rose...

a precious flower

that I trampled on.

There you go.

A toast to Mae. She's okay.

I'm a songwriter too, huh?

Would you call the McAfee house again

and see if my Al... Sonny!

Mama, what are you doin'

in a place like this?

We're playin' canasta.

I got lonesome.

- Did you cut the Russians?

- And why are you consorting with him?

- Glad to meet you.

- Now looks ain't everything.

Besides, Mr. Maude

is 100% gentlemen and a widower.

Three times. Sit down, Albert.

Any son ot Mae Peterson is a friend

of mine. Come. Sit down. Go on.

Mama, get your things. We're taking

the bus to New York tonight.

Your song! It's all off?

- It's dead, like I am. Let's go.

- You ain't going, Mae. Say you ain't!

- You unhand her. Come on, Mama.

- Okay, buster. Set 'em up!

Double scotch and gin on the side

and, uh, a bourbon chaser.

Make that a triple chaser,

and bring on the dancing boys!

Well, come on. Make me the drinks,

Meyer. We gotta put out this fire.

Everything is Rosie

Cha, cha, cha

- 'Cause my name is Rosie

- Oh, the poor thing.

- Fifi, huh

- She can't get over me.

- She's singing the song I wrote for her.

- You wrote her a song?

Well, only eight bars, Mama.

Somehow I never could finish it.

Hey, what's with the red cap?

You got a train inside?

Where are you goin'?

I'm gonna go down and see what

the boys in the back room will have.

Albert, where are you going?

To save her from herself... to save her

for me. She might get in trouble.

Report on the charity bazaar we ran

for the benefit of the old folk home...

to wit net cash receipts, $840.06.

Valuable goods contributed,

two milk cows, live...

eighty lugs ot fresh fruit...

forty-five young cumquat trees...

one ton of fertilizer...

And now,

betore the recording secretary...

reads the minutes

from last week's meeting...

I wish to bring up a subject...

that I know is on everybody's mind...

tonight.

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