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Now everything was calm down in Wichita
Before that Greyhound bus pulled on in.
On to the sidewalk stepped, dressed in faded jeans,
A girl who grinned a lecherous grin.
She was a Gin drinking, sin thinking, pool playing,
hip swaying. Pot growing, mind blowing, sweet talking, street- walking.
Back scratching, man snatching, soul shouting Lady from L.A.

They say it's tough to teach an old dog new tricks.
But down in Wichita they learn fast.
She turned the whole town on to her West Coast ways.
They lived each day like it was their last.
They loved the Gin drinking, sin thinking... etc.

She left the neighbourhood; heard she travelled West,
I don't know where 'cos she didn't say,
But it's a funny thing: half of Wichita Are combing all the U.S. of A.

To find the Gin drinking, sin thinking... etc.

John Barry
Don Black
sung by Michael Crawford

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Any minute now, his arms will hold me.
Any minute now.
Any minute now, just like he told me.
Any minute now.
In a little while, he will elate me,
Tighten up my life, uncomplicate me.
He'll be here in just a dream, no longer.
Any minute now.
Any minute now, that git will show up.
Any minute now.
Any minute now, or I will throw up.
Any minute now.
Talking like Lord Muck, all 'posh' and fancy,
I could ring the neck of my fiance.
If he don't turn up, I'll shoot the bleeder...
Any minute now.
Any minute, I'll hear his laughter. Any minute now. Any minute now,
and ever after. Any minute now.
In a little while, when he has found me. He will build a world of
love around me. Funny how my dream can seem a lifetime.
Any minute now, me rat will call me. Any minute now.
Count up to ten and calm your nerves. He'll soon be here.
Any minute now, me ape will maul me. Any minute now.
He'll bring your hopes, he'll bring your dreams. Don't worry, dear.
Better have me ring, or he'll go flying; Bet he's in the lav,
rehearsing lying! Got a feeling that the cat will bring him.
Any minute now. Any minute now. Any minute now.

John Barry
Don Black
sung by Gay Soper, Elaine Page

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Do you remember how lovely it was
When he was a little lad?
Kicking a tin, grazing a shin,
Oh, what a grand time we had!
Do you remember that snowman he made
And the tree that he used to climb?
Boat in the sink, hands full of ink,
That Mother Goose pantomine?

Ah, but look at the bugger now, me pet,
Look at the bugger now!
A silly half h'apeth, a bloody dumb oaf,
As mad as a hatter, as daft as a loaf!
What's all this soft twaddle you keep on about?
A bloody great 'nana is how he's turned out!

I can remember those small paper planes
And that coconut he won,
Footballs and bats, crackers and hats,
My, we were proud of your son.
I can remember his first day at school.
You cried for a week, you know.
Wasn't it fun raising a son?
It's a shame he had to grow,

'Cos just look at our Billy now, me love,
Look at our Billy now!
It's hard to believe he's our own flesh and blood,
I can tell you his backside could do with a thud.
I still can't get used to his habits, my pet,
Nor me, either, Geoffrey; he talks bloody wet!

There's lots to remember...
And a bloody sight more to forget!

Music by John Barry
Lyrics by Don Black
Sung by Avis Bunnage, Bryan Pringle

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In a perfect world, I would wave my hand.
And everyone would understand
The things that make me me.
In a perfect world, I would wave my hand,
And have three girls at my command.
And this is how they'd be.
Billy, Billy, silly Billy,
Finding fame inside a teacup.
Looks at clouds and sees a rainbow.
Looks at me and makes the rain go.
He sees glory in a shadow on his
bedroom wall.
How can Billy go and leave it all?
Billy, Billy, silly Billy,
Sails the seas astride his pillow.
Pleased to let the world pass by him.
Only dreams can satisfy him.
In his dreams he can be all the
things he longs to be.
Sail on Billy, and make room for me.

John Barry
Don Black
sung by Michael Crawford, Diana Quick, Gay Soper, Elaine Page

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Is this where I wake up and look around,
And find, to my surprise, I'm on the ground?
Will I come to my senses?
Is this where truth commences?
Are all the consequences
That lie in store, worth rising for?

Is this where I wake up, is this the day?
Is this where I wake up ; what did you say?
Something in me is stirring.
Is something great occuring?
I know what you're inferring:
You will come too, yes, you'll come too.

Is this where I wake up and start to live?
Do I now show the world I've more to give?
It seems a trip worth taking.
Why won't my hands stop shaking?
Maybe at last I'm waking
Out of the night. Could I be right?
Is this where I wake up...and turn on the light?

Music by John Barry
Lyrics by Don Black
Sung by Michael Crawford, Diana Quick

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Aren't you Billy Fisher? By gum, you have done well! Lmte Billy
Fisher. You must have lots to tell. My, you're really glowing. You're
too good to be true. Like a cock you're crowing. We're glad we
spotted you.
I'll tell you how I'm living now:
I've got me a yacht and a cat called Camelot,
And a ranch and a purple Cadillac,
A charming chateau, the Swiss side of Buffalo,
A jet and assorted bric-a-brac.
And, whilst playing gin, I was fortunate to win
Some shares from a man called Pontiac.
But I miss me chums from the slagheaps and the slums.
Do you know that I gave me Oscar back?
Good old Billy Fisher, Our local boy's made good. Ee-up, Billy
Fisher, We always knew you would. My, you're proper famous, There's
nothing you can't do. Can you really blame us For being proud of you ?
I've tapped and twirled around the world.
I've danced with them all: Bergman, Streisand and
Bacall, Lucille Ball, Racquet Welch, and Doris Day;
I've tangoed with Liz - she's adorable, she is
I've waltzed on a cloud with Alice Faye,
Mae West is a joy. She said: "I don't dance big boy.
But still come up and see me anyway."
It sounds pretty good, but I missed me Yorkshire Pud,
Sol told MGM I couldn 't stay.
Call him Billy Baby
That's what I'm called back there.
Blue-eyed Billy Baby,
They know me everywhere.
Yes, he's Billy Fisher,
As everybody knows.
Big-time Billy Fisher
Of Fisher Studios.
From Hollywood to Haiti,
From Soho to Ceylon,
He's known as Billy Fisher the phenomenon.
Me! Billy Fisher!
He! Billy Fisher!
No, The Billy Fisher, from now on.
He's the one and only Billy Fisher
From now on!

John Barry
Don Black
sung by Michael Crawford & Company

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You will never ever know,
No, you will never see
The way the world was, years ago,
And how il looked to me.

It were all green hills when I were a lad,
Lovely, really lovely.
There were open fields and vast meadowlands,
Rambling dales, rugged moors and vales,
And the air was crip and rivers stretched for untold miles;
The trees had room to grow and grow.
It were all green hills when I were a lad,
But, of course, you're much to young to know.

It were all green hills when I was a lad.
Champion, it were champion.
We had cobbled roads and white-coloured trams,
Brass bands played at the town's parade,
And we sat and talked for hours on the village green,
The days unfolded nice and slow.
It were all green hills when I was a lad,
But, of course, you're much too young to know.

Music by John Barry
Lyrics by Don Black
Sung by Lockwood West

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Remember when I said me Dad was shot in the hip ?
Lies, lies, lies.
And then there was the time me Mum went down with her ship.
Lies, lies, lies.
Those tales about me Gran: the one who throws the javelin,
The niece who lost her chin and cannot play the violin;
The book me Auntie wrote about her nights with Errol Flynn,
All lies, nothing but lies. Your house in St. Tropez, left by your Aunt Rosalind?
Lies, lies, lies. The day you took off work to re-write "Gone With The Wind"?
Lies, lies, all lies. That bridge me sister bombed the minute that our boys had crossed,
The night Mum smoked in bed when all her sheets and limbs were lost.
The time that Shostakovich said that I could call him Shost.
All lies, nothing but lies.
You said you'd stay with me until this round world was flat.
Lies, lies, lies,
You know I'll stay with you for much, much longer than that.
Lies, lies, all lies.
Why can't you speak the truth ? Is it too hard for you to do ?
All right, what would you say if I said that I hated you,
And if I boiled your bones I'm sure they'd taste like orange stew ?
All lies, nothing but lies.
Yes, lies, glorious lies.

John Barry
Don Black
sung by Michael Crawford, Gay Soper

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We will go to church on Sundays,
What a life we'll lead.
Mum and Dad will come on Mondays,
Tuesdays, we will read.
Wednesdays, we'll go out and have a snack,
Thursdays, I will sew.
Fridays, we'llhelp Mum and Dad to pack,
Saturdays, they'll go.
Every star that's in the sky
Will belong to Bill and I.
She's a witch, she's a witch!
She's a dull and boring bitch!
I would like to wring her neck and dump her body
in a ditch. She's as lifeless as a slab;
She's repulsive, she is drab.
She's a witch! Evil witch!
She's a witch, she's a witch!
She's enough to make you twitch.
If you put her on a broom you couldn't tell which witch is which.
She is dreadful, she is vile.
And one day I swear that I'll
Kill the witch, cowing witch!
He will love and cherish me. Oh, how sweet our life will be We will
go to church... (etc.)
(Counter melody)
She's a witch, she's a witch!
She's a wicked ice-cold bitch!
I could plug her in a socket and then quickly pull the switch.
How I hate her virgin lips,
Hope she chokes on orange pips.
What a bitch! Rotten witch!
She's a witch, she's a witch!
She's enough to make you itch.
And one day I'll plan her murder; it will go without a hitch.
When her neck is in the noose
I will chuck some orange juice
At the witch, cowing witch!

John Barry
Don Black
sung by Michael Crawford, Gay Soper

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Couldn't you bust, how can they be just
Happy to be themselves?
They look so odd, like peas in a pod,
Happy to be themselves.
Nowhere to go but still ever so
Happy to be themselves,
Nothing to see what makes them all be
Happy to be themselves.

Shopping with stamps and rubbing their cramps,
Happy to be themselves,
Cooking their stews and drinking their booze,
Happy to be themselves.
Darning their socks and watching the box,
Happy to be themselves,
Saving their brass, cutting their grass,
Happy to be themselves.

They don't remember :
Streamers and clowns and penny arcades,
Merry-go-rounds, and buckets and spades,
Conkers and crisps, and Disney cartoons,
Charabanc rides and broken balloons.

Carrying bags, smoking their fags,
Happy to be themselves,
Having a snooze, standing in queues,
Happy to be themselves.
Waiting like fools for Littlewoods pools,
Happy to be themselves,
Eating their chips and licking their lips,
Happy to be themselves.

Sawdust and swings, and marbles and kites,
Cowboys and kinds, and bonfire nights,
Rabbits that go, and mirrors that bend,
Curtains that fall, and evenings that end.

Riding in tubes and padding their boobs,
Happy to be themselves.
I'll bet they cough when having it off,
Happy to be themselves.
Writing in bogs, walking their dogs,
Happy to be themselves,
They're in a mess but couldn't care less,
Happy to be themselves.

We're pleased to say we like it this way,
Happy to be ourselves.
Better by far to stay as we are,
Happy to be ourselves.
What we are got is still quite a lot,
Happy to be ourselves.
No big ideas of crappy careers,
Happy to be ourselves.

Once you have fame, you're never the same,
Happy to be ourselves.
Swift cardiacs and ulcer attacks,
Happy to be ourselves.
Who wants to race all over the place?
Happy to be ourselves.
Leave us alone, we're fine on our own,
Happy to be ourselves.

Music by John Barry
Lyrics by Don Black
Sung by Michael Crawford, Billy Boyle and Company