(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)