Show Boat: Bill - Kathryn Grayson, William Warfield, Howard Keel

I used to dream that I would discover

The perfect lover someday.

I knew I’d recognize him if ever he came round my way.

I always used to fancy then

He’d be one of the Godlike kind of men,

With a giant brain and a noble head

Like the heroes bold in the books I read.

But along came Bill, who’s not the type at all;

You’d meet him on the street and never notice him.

His form and face, his manly grace

Are not the kind that you would find in a statue.

And I can’t explain, it’s surely not his brain

That makes me thrill.

I love him because he’s wonderful because he’s just old Bill.

He can’t play golf or tennis or polo or sing a solo or row.

He isn’t half as handsome as dozens of men that I know.

He isn’t tall and straight and slim;

And he dresses far worse than Ted or Jim.

And I can’t explain why he should be

Just the one, one man in the world for me.

He’s just my Bill, an ordinary boy,

He hasn’t got a thing that I can brag about.

And yet to be upon his knee,

So comfy and roomy feels natural to me.

And I can’t explain,

It’s surely not his brain that makes me thrill.

I love him because he’s, I don’t know,

Because he’s just my Bill.