Hollywood Canteen Page #4

[SINGING] Wildcat Willy

Lookin' mighty pale

Was standing by the sheriff's side

And when that sheriff said,

"I'm sending you to jail"

Wildcat raised his head and cried

Oh, give me land, lots of land

Under starry skies above

Don't fence me in

Let me ride through the wide

Open country that I love

Don't fence me in

Let me be by myself

In the evenin' breeze

And listen to the murmur

Of the cottonwood trees

Send me off forever

But I ask you, please

Don't fence me in

Just turn me loose

Let me straddle my old saddle

Underneath the Western skies

On my cayuse

Let me wander over yonder

Till I see the mountain rise

I wanna ride to the ridge

Where the West commences

And gaze at the moon

Till I lose my senses

I can't look at hobbles

And I can't stand fences

Don't fence me in

Just turn me loose

Let me straddle my old saddle

Underneath the Western skies

On my cayuse

Let me wander over yonder

Till I see the mountain rise

I want to ride to the ridge

Where the West commences

And gaze at the moon

Till I lose my senses

I can't look at hobbles

And I can't stand fences

Don't fence me in

I'm the rovin' kind

So if you don't mind

All that I can say is:

"Come on, Trigger

Let's be on our way"

Pal, I want you to shake hands with the

hand that shook hands with Roy Rogers.

- Look.

- Thank you very much, Miss Lupino.

Not at all.

Good evening, sergeant.

First night at the Canteen?

- Yes, ma'am.

- Well, can I show you the ropes?

Miss Lupino, you may show me anything

your lovely heart desires.

IDA:

Shall we sit here?

Thank you.

As a rule, Miss Lupino,

movie stars don't interest me none.

But you, you're different.

Really, sergeant? In what way?

Well, as Frenchie

in my battalion would say:

"You have a certain je ne sais quoi."

French.

Oh, is it?

Yeah.

Yes, we adventurers pick up quite a bit

as we travel over the Earth.

I'll bet you're not kidding.

Well, go on, sergeant,

speak to me some more in French.

You adventurers interest me.

Well, there's "l'amour."

"Toujours l'amour," for example.

[SPEAKS IN FRENCH]

Well, I'm doing my best, sergeant, go on.

Leave us say that we're in

a little French salle prive for deux.

Okay, let's.

We have just consummated our potage.

That means soup.

It is la Nouvelle Anne.

New Year's.

- And it's nuit.

- Yes.

- Below is the bois.

- Charming.

Champagne.

[SPEAKING IN FRENCH]

[IDA SPEAKING IN FRENCH]

- What language was that?

- French.

French?

[CLATTERS]

Oh, no, you were doing very well.

Now, let's go back

to la Nouvelle Anne, shall we?

No, I feel my malaria coming back.

I better go outside.

Pardonnez-moi... Excuse me.

[BOTH SPEAKING IN FRENCH]

[SPEAKING IN FRENCH]

- Look, pal.

- Yes?

Take my advice:

This won't get you no place, I tried it.

- You tried what, sergeant?

- French.

Well, it just happens I was born that way.

- Bye-bye, Irene.

- Bye.

How you doing?

It doesn't look like Miss Leslie's here.

You think you got troubles.

Aren't you the boy

who won the kiss last night?

- Uh-huh.

- And you're back for more?

Gosh, just looking at her

would make me happy.

WOMAN:

Wow!

Oh, Irene, do you think

dancing will ever come back?

My feet feel like fire bricks.

Well, who's little who are you?

Oh, this is Patty Andrews.

- Hello, I thought you looked familiar.

- Well, I generally am.

But a 500-ton Marine

took it out of me, dancing.

Aha!

Honey, I'm gonna dance your hips

right out of their sockets.

Oh, please!

I beg your pardon, young man...

...but exactly what did you say you were

going to do with Miss Andrews' sockets?

Dance her out of them, Mr. Greenstreet.

Say, Sydney, doesn't

that constitute mayhem?

Definitely, Peter.

And besides, it would be very gruesome.

Horrible sight.

Now, look, gentlemen,

it's only a figure of speech.

You know, like you'll say,

you'll tear a guy limb from limb.

You wouldn't really

tear a guy limb from limb.

Wouldn't we?

Oh, pardon me, sir...

...would you mind stepping outside

with me for a moment?

No, no, no, excuse me, gentlemen.

I gotta join my outfit.

All I wanted to ask him

is to join me in a cigarette.

- He didn't trust us, Peter.

- No.

And we are such gentle people.

Are we?

Hey, Sydney...

[SINGING] I'm gettin' corns for my country

At the Hollywood Canteen

The hardest working junior hostess

You've ever seen

I'm doin' my bit down here

For Uncle Sam

I'm a patriotic jitterbug

Yeah, yeah, that's what I am

I'm gettin' corns for my country

You should see the pounds fly

I'm gettin' down the waistline

And I don't even try

I don't need a DuBarry

Or a Westmore course

'Cause my weight's been taken over

By the Army Air Force

We're not petite as sweet Joan Leslie

But then we never mind

When those GIs knock us out

We're glad that we're the healthy kind

The way those cowboys from the prairie

Expect us to sashay

I think I'd rather two-step

With their horses any day

We're gettin' corns for our country

Though the goin' is tough

When we think we can't go on

We find we can't get enough

So if you hear of a soldier

Sailor or Marine

Tell 'em to look us up

At the Hollywood Canteen

I used to be aesthetic, they say

Oh, yes, I was, really, I was

I loved the drama, art and the ballet

But the Theater Guild

Came over and said:

"Forget about Pavlova

Learn to cut a rug"

So now we're jitterbugs

I'm gettin' corns for my country

Though I'm really all in

In a week from now we'll be here

With our usual vim

So if you hail from the Bronx

Des Moines or Aberdeen

Come down and ask for us

At the Hollywood Canteen

MAN 1:
Sing us a cowboy song.

MAN 2:
"Don't Fence Me In."

PATTI:

Well, all right.

[WHISTLES]

[SINGING] Oh, give me land, lots of land

Under starry skies

Don't fence me in

Let me ride through the wide

Country that I love

Don't fence me in

Let me be by myself

In the evening breeze

And listen to the murmur

Of the cottonwood trees

Send me off forever

But I ask you, please

Don't fence me in

Just turn me loose

Let me straddle my old saddle

Underneath the Western skies

Doo-doo-doo

Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo

On my cayuse

Let me wander over yonder

Till I see the mountains rise

I want to ride to the ridge

Where the West commences

And gaze at the moon

Till I lose my senses

And I can't look at hobbles

And I can't stand fences

Don't fence me in

No

Papa, don't you fence me in

Look, Chef Milani,

what I need now is some advice...

...from some of these romantic guys

you got autographs of.

Well, is Paul Henreid and Donald Woods.

In the kitchen, see? They washing dishes.

Gentlemen.

You know, some guys are born

with something inside them...

...that makes women melt.

You guys got it.

You ever see a woman melt, Paul?

Sure.

Why, every time Paul looks my way,

my blood pressure climbs higher and higher.

You see, Mr. Henreid? You got it.

Oh, that's because Mary Gordon stirs

something subconsciously primeval in me.

Go on with you now,

you'll have me blushing.

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