(From the 1947 movie The Secret Life of Walter Mitty) It all began when I was born a month too soon My ma was frightened by a runaway saloon Pa was forced to be a hobo Because he played the oboe And the oboe it is clearly understood Is an ill wind that no one blows good I'll never forget the morning that Grandpa ate the awning To impress a pretty lady who went for men that were shady Then my Uncle and Mary went on a safari To Charcuterie, tom-bay, India. Making through the trackers jungle At low time high noon Low time high noon And I'm the result of the twisted eugenics Of this family of inbred schizophrenics The end of a long long line of bats (Laughs) I design women's hats (Speaks French) You are no longer wizards (Knocks down a statue) I'm Anatole of Paris I shriek with chic My hat of the week Cause 6 divorces, 3 runaway horses I'm Anatole of Paris The hats I sell make husbands yell Is that a hat or a two room flat (Speaks French)
Let me get my paw on a little piece of straw And viola! A chapeau, at 60 bucks a troll It's how I pull and chew on it The little things I do on it Like placing yards of lacing or a bicycle built for two on it The little ones, the big ones The sat on by a pig ones The foolish ones that perch And the ghoulish ones that lurch The one called moonlit menace Designed for a night in Dennis A little bow and a little ore (Sings in Italian) I'm Anatole of Paris I must design I'm just like wine I go to your head Give me thread and the needle I itch, I twitch to stitch I'm a glutton for cutting For putting with a bu*ton To snip and pluck, nip and tuck Fix and trim, plan the brim Tote that barge, lift that veil (woman barks at him) And why do I sew each new chapeau With a style they most look positively grim in Strictly between us, entre-nous I hate women. (Laughs)