TYPES
They've got me down for a hick, bo,
Sam Harris says I'm the best boob in the biz,
And that no manager will cast me for anything else.
Curses on my hit in "'Way Down East"
That handcuffs me forever to yokels,
And me a better character actor than Corse Payton!
That's how it is they're stuck on types,
And the wise guy who plays anything
Isn't given a look-in.
Listen to me, young feller, and don't ever
Let 'em tab you for keeps as a type.
It's curtains for a career as sure as you're born.
Why, there's actors sentenced to comedy dog parts,
To Chinks, to Wops, to Frenchmen and fluffs.
There ain't no release for them.
The producers and managers can see only one angle,
And you may be a Mansfield or Sothern.
It's outrageous that's what it is, that make-up
And character acting should be thrown in the discard.
You can sit in an agent's office for months
Before a part comes along that you fit without fixin'.
This natural stuff puts the kibosh on art
And a stock training ain't what it used to be.
Say, if ever I rise to be hind legs of a camel
Or a bloodhound chasing Eliza, I'll kick or I'll bite
The type-choosing manager.