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| JILL MARSHALL-WORK, award-winning lyricist • BMI Lehman Engel Musical Theatre Worrshop, alum
• Dramatists Guild, member
• ASCAP, member
• Musical Makers, website designer/editor/webmaster; e-list co-moderator
• Musical Writers Playground, alum
• New Tuners Musical Theatre Development Workshop, alum back to HOME PAGE
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© 2004, lyrics by Jill Marshall-Work
(imagining Sylvia as a musical)
comic/theatrical up-tempo contemporary waltz by a wife who is taking a back seat to the new dog
A
She’s worse than loose women or sporty new cars—
those rivals a woman might dread.
’Cuz your mistress chooses to take all her snoozes
between you and me in our bed!
A
She laps at the toilet and yaps at the door
while you overlook all her flaws.
I play second fiddle to your Queen of Piddle
while you eat right out of her paws.
B
My darling, I hate to be breaking the news:
Your mistress is a mutt.
This is the creature who pees in your shoes,
and likes to sniff your…you-know-what.
A
You spend all your time with your cute little friend,
but dearest, I’ll give you a scoop:
I really lose face when I take second place
to a pooch who likes rolling in poop.
CDon’t you see that she’s coming between us…
a wedge between husband and wife!
Would I stand to lose, dear, if I made you chose, dear,
between your new dog and your marital life?
A
You‘ve proven it’s true when they say love is blind...
your puppy love’s gone to your head!
I’m truly dismayed, for I’m truly afraid
you prefer having her in your bed!
B
Now sweetheart, I know you don’t want to admit
your mistress is a mutt.
I think I’ve taken enough of this… (spoken) baloney
(sung) so honey, here’s the scuttlebutt…
A+
Just give me that mongrel…I’ll give her away.
I’ll put in a call to the S.P.C.A.
In Singapore, dog’s on the menu today.
(spoken) Okay, maybe that’s a little drastic…
TAG
(sung) If you could just spare me a moment or so…
there’s something I think you should know:
your mistress—the mutt—
is adorable but…
that bitch has got to go!
© 2004, MP3 lyrics by Jill Marshall-Work, music by Varick Bacon
comedic up-tempo theatrical song from Cooperation
A
When I was a little girl, the boys all gave me grief,
they picked on me and said I was a klutz.
Then I learned a little trick that gave me some relief.
I would kick those noodges in the nuts!
bridge
I really love to stick it to the schtunks who give me fits.
Payback time! Don't mess with Moskowitz!
A
When I moved into this place, I must have lost my mind,
a co-op operating at a loss.
Then while serving on the board, I made a lucky find.
Now I get to show these schmucks who’s boss!
bridge
There’s nothing I like more than shredding egos into bits.
Be forewarned, don’t mess wirh Moskowitz!
B (patter)
So your vent is cracked and bent, and the window never closes.
And the lock? Okay, it’s schlock, and the wiring has its flaws.
And the doorman’s always truant, and the super’s barely fluent...
we’ll address concerns pursuant to the arbitration clause.
A
I’ve discovered untold joys in telling people, “no.”
The contract clearly states, “we don’t do trash.”
If you want my sympathy, I’ll need some quid pro quo,
and I’m not immune to cold, hard cash.
bridge
So here’s a flash for you and all your fellow, foolish twits:
listen up, don’t mess with Moskowitz!
B (patter)
Got a leak? Then wait a week..or a year...for satisfaction.
Golly gee, you gotta pee, and the toilet’s on the fritz?
If you schmooze, then I might choose to consider taking action...
BOARD PRESIDENT, spoken: You got that right!
TAG
Don’t assume I’ve got no balls, just because I’m built with tits!
Kiss my…grits!
Don’t mess with Moskowtiz!
© 2003, lyrics by Jill Marshall-Work
humorous up-tempo Andrews Sisters-type song from “Sleepless Beauty”
INTRODUCTORY VERSE
Daddy, ev’ry month or so, another prince would come to woo.
But they couldn’t go the distance, and why not? I have no clue.
They deferred to my opionions, followed orders to a “T,”
gave me lovely, lavish gifts, recited sonnets praising me,
but they all left quite abruptly on some lame emergency.
You need to find the prince for me.
REFRAIN:
A
I need a prince, someone who’s charming…
the lack of suitable suitors is simply alarming.
Where could Prince Charming be?
A
I need a prince, one who’s a cutie,
but not so handsome that he rivals me in beauty.
Who will fulfull my destiny?
B
Oh, Daddy dear, I need a prince by my side.
And I’m not one who’s used to being denied.
Without my perfect prince, I am not satisfied.
It’s a matter of pride.
A
I need a prince, young, strong and healthy.
It wouldn’t hurt if he was fabulously wealthy.
It‘s time to find my prince!
C (patter)Prince Rupert stayed a month and then he caught the Asian flu.
Prince Hubert stayed two weeks and then he disappeared from view.
Prince Paul was fine for days, but then he couldn‘t stop that cough.
When Prince Pierre got chicken pox, the wedding was called off.
Why Prince Bernard went crazy, well, it‘s anybody’s guess.
Prince Gregory was banished when he dared beat me at chess.
Prince Joe wore out my patience, and Prince Bob wore out his welcome, and Prince Patrick wore a dress!
A+/TAG
I need a prince, one who won’t bore me,
a man who only lives to worship and adore me.
Some day my prince will come to me on bended knee.
When will my prince appear?
Go fetch him, daddy dear!
When will me prince be here!?
Daddy, I need a prince!
© 2003, lyrics by Jill Marshall-Work
gospel-style up-tempo song from “Sleepless Beauty”
A
I shoulda said “No” when you were a baby and you wouldn’t wear your diaper.
Shoulda said “No” when you were a toddler tossing toys and acting hyper.
There is no excuse for fits you throw…I should have told you so.
I shoulda said “No”…
A
I shoulda said “No” when you when you were a child who called a count a crooked geezer.
Shoulda said “No” when you when you were a teen who hid my false teeth in the freezer.
When you filled my crown with Crazy Glue, no punishment came due.
I shoulda said “No” to you…
B
I shoulda said “No,” You‘re in trouble.
Take a time out, you‘re grounded.
Such a wonderful word…I’ll say it again, ’cuz I like the way it sounded:
Shoulda said “No,” Better shape up.
Go to your room and stay there.
Until you learn to play fair,
the answer is no!
A
I outta “No” when you when you turn your nose up at the gourmet meals you’re eating.
Outta “No” when you blame the servants, saying they deserve a beating.
No more telling me your life’s a bore…you’re always wanting more.
I shoulda said “No” to you before…
N…O!
C
No! Nada! Never! Forget it!
I’m on a roll, and nothing can upset it,
This is a word you haven’t heard enough!
If you don’t like it, that’s tough!
A
I’m gonna say “No” when you throw out dresses after just a single wearing.
Gonna said “No” when you ask for jail time for a man whose crime is staring.
No more tears when you don’t get your way…I’ve got the final say.
I shoulda said “No” to you before today.
A
We gotta say “No” when you make us serve you and give up each prized possession.
Gotta say no when you force us to indulge your ev’ry last obsession.
There’s no temper tantrum you won’t throw to keep your status quo.
We shoulda said “No” so very long ago.
We shoulda said “No,” You’re in trouble.
Take a time out, you’re grounded.
Such a wonderful word…we’ll say it again, ’cuz we like the way it sounded:
Shoulda said “No,” Better shape up.
Go to your room and stay there.
Until you learn to play fair,
the answer is no!
A+
You need to write “I will not bite” a hundred times or more.
I should said “No” a hundred times,
We shoulda said “No” a thousand times,
We shoulda said “No” a hundred thousand times before!
© 2006, MP3 lyrics by Jill Marshall-Work, music by Howard Pfeifer
march from TYA musical, “Freddy the Flat-faced School Bus”
A
A school bus always needs to be a prince of punctuality
and free from any glaring faults or blatant abnormality.
Maneuvers are conducted with a synchronized formality.
"Precision, Perfection and Discipline" are the hallmarks of Basil’s School Bus Brigade.
A
A school bus with a dent will not adhere to uniformity;
In my brigade, such failings will appear with sheer enormity.
Remember, chipping paint will be considered a deformity.
"Precision, Perfection and Discipline" are the hallmarks of Basil’s School Bus Brigade.
B
The brakelights blink in unison with ev’ry wiper blade.
The horns all beep the same note in each bus in my brigade.
Each identity is hidden—
wear and tear is quite forbidden—
as my buses march in marvelous parade.
(dance break for military marching drills; over which BASIL gives commands)
Forward, march!
Hut, 2, 3, 4.
Step lively, now!
Keep in step, Byron.
Company, halt!
About face!
Forward march.
Dress right.
No, no, no, Bernice…right!…Your other right!
Keep it crisp.
Precision, perfection, discipline! Jolly good!
A
A school bus must obey and never question my authority.
To follow all the rules has got to be your first priority.
All diff’rences are banned, so make your stand with the majority.
"Precision, Perfection and Discipline" are the hallmarks of Basil’s School Bus Brigade.
© 2006, lyrics by Jill Marshall-Work, music by Howard Pfeifer
diva turn from TYA musical, “Freddy the Flat-faced School Bus”
INTRO
WANDA
I used to be a battered bus,
a "windows cracked and shattered" bus,
a "seats all torn and tattered” bus,
a "life no longer mattered" bus.
I used to be a rusted bus,
a disgusting, mud-encrusted bus.
(spoken) It took a mechanic to restore me.
And now it’s impossible to ignore me.
A
The swan was once an ugly duck,
a pearl’s a clam with awesome luck.
And shiny gold was rocky ore, but nobody cares what it was before.
A
A diamond is a carbon rock,
but polished up, it’s blue-chip stock.
So can’t you see that "used-to-be" has little to do with me.
B
WANDA
A butterfly emerging, bursting from my cocoon.
MICKEY
With very little urging, she is apt to croon this tune…
A
WANDA
On field trips, I’m the superstar,
the envy of each passing car.
At stoplights, I stop traffic cold…and all my endorsements pay like gold.
A
MICKEY
In pageants, she’s the beauty queen,
the diva on the silver screen.
WANDA
They mob me at the grocery store…need I say more?
TAG
I may not have a flawless pedigree,
but I’ve been overhauled so fabulously!
The heart-igniting bus, the eye-delighting bus,
the brightest and the whitest, most exciting bus!
When I’m around, ev‘ry eye‘s on meÉ
I‘m not the bus I used to be!
© 2003, lyrics by Jill Marshall-Work, music by David Turner
(imagining “It’s a Wonderful Life” as a musical)
INTRODUCTORY VERSE
You can start your married life in style,
wealthy on a million dollar smile.
You've got pennies from heaven, go spend the whole pile.
It's time to shoot the works!
REFRAIN
A
The newest champagne, the oldest chateau,
the best "mater D" for the least bit of dough.
The Waldorf Astoria cannot compete with 320 Sycamore Street.
A
Old Faithful is tall, Niagra is wide,
but here you can dine with with a fountain inside!
I’ve sampled your dinner…you’re in for a treat at 320 Sycamore Street.
B
Versaille has a flair but doesn’t compare to these unique, creeky walls.
Windsor Castle can boast of royalty, but we can toast the king of Bedford Falls!
A
The chandelier's dim, designed for romance!
When you flip the light switch, you’re taking a chance.
But even the Taj Mahal ain’t as elite as 320 Sycamore Street.
In this ritzy palace there aren't any troubles.
So pop the cork and float away on twenty-cent bubbles.
A
Forget grand hotels. Forget caviar.
The king has a chauffeur, so who needs a car?
If this doesn’t float your boat, here’s the receipt for 320 Sycamore Street.
(scene ensues; then REPRISE)
A+
The loveliest tunes, the prettiest wife.
What more could I want? It's a wonderful life!
I don’t need to travel when the world’s at my feet.
With you here, a hovel is a honeymoon suite.
So we’ll trade Bermuda, Manhattan…and Crete…for 320 Sycamore Street!
© 2000, music and lyrics by Jill Marshall-Work
haunting ballad from “Belles of the Mill”
A
How do I tell you what it’s like to work in the mill?
Images of each day I spent there haunt me still.
The clammy cold sweat. The deafening clatter.
No moment’s rest, no idle chatter.
Surviving a life where life doesn’t matter.
A
One day a young girl got her hair caught in the machine.
I watched it pull her in…it was a bloody scene.
I shut down the loom, we ran to her side,
but she had been scalped. She nearly died.
When they took her away we returned to work, crying inside.
B
Life in the mill, day to day.
Bellies to fill, debts to pay.
Life in the mill, caught in bloody agony.
It could have been me.
A
Summertime heat is suffocating, foul, steamy air.
They sell us water not fit for dogs, but they don’t care.
We come to work ill, we come underfed,
so one woman fainted, hitting her head.
And she lay there and bled until she was dead.
B
Life in the mill day to day.
Bellies to fill, debts to pay.
Death in the mill…it’s a threat I can’t forget.
It could have been me.
A (underscored dialogue)
B
Life in the mill, day to day.
Bellies to fill, debts to pay.
Caught in endless drudgery.
It could have been me.
A+
I knew a girl whose mill boss left her virtue defiled.
He forced himself upon her, leav ing her with child.
Against her beliefs, she chose termination.
Now she must face eternal damnation.
Where can she find consolation?
Can’t you see, this time it was me!
© 2004, music and lyrics by Jill Marshall-Work
Native American-flavored ballad from
CHIEF CAMEAHWAIT:
A
Many moons, you have been missing.
You’ve returned, a gift that strangers bring.
Welcome home, my little sister.
My Shoshone heart can now begin to sing.
A
You are safe among your people.
Shadowed fears no longer haunt my soul.
You’re restored, my prayer is answered.
My Shoshone heart at last again is whole.
(DIALOGUE BREAK)
My heart broke when I lost you, my only fam’ly gone.
In vain, I tried to find you, ’til no hope lingered on.
But now we’re reunited, and new new hope starts to dawn
again in my Shoshone heart!
A
You are home, Sacagawea.
Tears of joy make rivers down my cheek.
You’re alive! My spirit dances.
My Shoshone heart has found the peace I seek.
REPRISE
SAGACAWEA:
A
Now at last I’m in my homeland.
This is where my heart has always been.
There’s a choice…it isn’t easy…
my Shoshone heart must journey on again.
CAMEAHWAIT:
A
You must stay among your people.
Let your son learn the Shoshone way.
Don’t you hear our tribal heartbeat?
Your Shoshone heart must listen and obey.
(BRIEF DIALOGUE)
SACAGAWEA:
I owe these men a duty, I have to see this through.
I’m needed. I’m respected. I’m vital to the crew.
Although my heart is breaking, I know what I must do
will mean that we will have to part.
(BRIEF DIALOGUE)
A
I must choose the path that calls me.
In my heart are dreams I can’t betray.
I will go seek new horizons, ’though it takes me far away.
But while I go complete my journey, my Shoshone heart will stay.
© 2003, music and lyrics by Jill Marshall-Work
calypso-style up-tempo “list” song from
A
How do you pack for the trip of a lifetime?
What do you take along?
With nowhere to shop in the wilds of the west, you don’t want to pack all wrong.
Bring two hundred pounds of cornmeal flour, and pack it up watertight.
But one day your arms will begrudge ev’ry pound,
so you must pack light.
B
Pack portable soup and machetes and soap.
Mosquito repellent and candles and rope.
Gifts for the natives like buttons and beads,
and jars for collecting seeds.
A
How do you pack for the trip of a lifetime?
What do you think you’ll need?
A medical kit with a measure of quinine, leeches to help you bleed.
A compass and pocket telescope…so you can survey the route.
So what do you pack for the trip of a lifetime,
and what‘s left out?
B
We won’t bring a beach towel or snorkel and fins.
We’ll do without shortcake and cookies in tins.
No showers or bathtubs, so you get the gist…
toilet papers not on the list!
A
How do you pack fo the trip of a lifetime?
What do we need to buy?
Containers of coffee and bushels of biscuits, 'taters that we can fry.
bring six hundred pounds of grease and lard, and flour to make some bread.
But some days your meals will be what you can shoot,
so pack some lead.
Plenty of rifles, tobacco and snuff.
We’ll shop till we drop…the army pays for the stuff!
With barrels of whiskey and bottles of ink, what’s left?
The kitchen sink?
A+
How do you pack for the trip of a lifetime?
What do you take along?
With nowhere to shop in the wilds of the west, you don’t want to pack all wrong.
The keelboat is loaded stem to stern with ev’rything we could need:
needles and thread, warm blankets, clothes, and reference books to read.
(That something important will be missed is practic’ly guaranteed!)
So how do you pack for the trip of a lifetime?
You’ll see…we’ll succeed!
© 2003, music and lyrics by Jill Marshall-Work
up-tempo song from
CLARK:
| Mountains, schmountains! Who cares if they’re tall?
We’ll ride an avalanche and let the snow break our fall.
We’ll really make some time. |
| YORK: | The drop is sheer! |
| CLARK: | Hang on! It’s all downhill from here. Hunger? Schmunger! Just go with the flow.
With ev’ry pound we lose the load gets lighter to row. |
| YORK: | We lose a few more pounds, we’ll disappear! |
| CLARK: | Who cares? It’s all downhill from here. The light beyond the tunnel, the glow on the horizon.
We’ll find the silver lining and it shouldn’t be surprisin’.
We’re racing to the end. |
| YORK: | The end is near! |
| CLARK: | But still, it‘s all downhill from here. Flea-bites? Schmeebites! Bring on the whole swarm.
The thrashing and the scratching will at least keep us warm.
Delirium is fun, |
| YORK: | strange dreams appear! |
| | Chin up! It’s all down hill from here. We’re gonna find the sunrise, despite this stormy weather.
We all will sink or swim ’cuz we’re all in this boat together.
And if the voyage take an extra year?
So what? It’s all downhill from here.
Rapids? Schmapids! We’ll ride ev’ry wave.
Our broken bones can mend in all the time that we save. |
| YORK: | And then to top it all, we find another waterfall. We’re goin’ down, down down! |
| CLARK: | From here, it’s down, down, down. |
| BOTH: | At least it’s all downhill from here. |
© 2002, lyrics by Jill Marshall-Work
wistful cabaret-style song in moderate waltz tempo
INTRODUCTORY VERSE
I’m relieved that little stick didn’t turn blue.
So relieved, I know what I’m going to do.
I’ll celebrate…have a drink…or two.
REFRAIN
Children—who needs them? They’re disruptive.
Children can drive you insane.
Who would want to mother a hateful little beast?
I’m not sorry in the least
knowing I’ll be spared that kind of pain.
Toddlers—who needs them? They’re destructive.
Toddlers have minds of their own.
Noisy little brats with those boo-boos to be kissed.
All their questions won’t be missed.
I’ll be left in peace, and left alone.
I won’t be wiping little smears of jelly off the wall.
I won’t be wiping little tears when Baby has a fall.
I won’t be wiping little dears when I’m on diaper call.
I’ll wipe these images away.
I mean it when I say…
Babies—who needs them? They’re demanding.
Babies just eat, sleep, and smell!
I will not respond to one certain urgent cry.
Calls for “Mommy” won’t apply.
So it’s just as well
that I’m not a mother-to-be.
Children—who needs them?
Me.
© 2001, music and lyrics by Jill Marshall-Work
bluesy cabaret-style song
All I want for Christmas is a man at my side
with a heart as big as Texas and a smile just as wide.
A man who’s good with children, and with animals, too.
And when he makes a promise, he will always come through.
All I want for Chrstmas is one big teddy bear.
Doesn’t matter if he’s shaggy, or he’s losing his hair.
I don’t care if he’s plain or if his waistline is wide.
A husky man can keep me warm and satified.
So Santa, will you see that all my wishes come true?
’Cause all I want for Christmas is a man like you.
Santa, you can help me out, if anyone can…
Just bring me a Santa Claus kind of a man.
All I want for Christmas is a jolly old elf
who can make me feel I’m young again in spite of myself.
A man who’s fond of holidays and likes a surprise.
A man who keeps a secret and who smiles with his eyes.
If men were all like you then I would not be alone.
So all I want for Christmas is a man of my own.
Santa, you can help me out me, if anyone can…
Just bring me a Santa Claus kind of a man.
I’m not looking for a man without any flaws.
But please make sure there isn’t any Mrs. Claus.
All I want for Christmas is a mistletoe kiss
from a man who’ll give a gift to me of marital bliss.
A milk-and-cookies kind of guy with love just for me.
So Santa when you find him, leave him under my tree.
Santa, find a man who’s for gonna stay by my side,
’cause all I want for Christmas is to be a bride.
Santa, you can help me out if anyone can.
Just bring me a Santa Claus kind of a man,
a Santa Claus kind of a man.
© 2001, lyrics by Jill Marshall-Work, music by Robert Pellacani
cabaret love ballad
A
If I could make a wish and have it granted,
I wouldn’t ask for jewels or pots of gold.
I don't need fairy tales to be enchanted...
I have your precious love to have and hold.
A
I don’t need shooting stars or buried treasure.
I don’t need wishing wells for luck to start.
I measure my good fortune in the riches of the heart.
B
No handsome prince’s love would hold me sweetly, completely, with his charms.
No mythic hero’s touch is so entrancing as dancing in your arms.
A
If I could make a wish for all I wanted
I wouldn’t need to wish..my needs are few.
My ev’ry wish has been fulfilled…
I dared to dream of you...
My dreams have all come true.
© 2002, music and lyrics by Jill Marshall-Work
cabaret/pop tune
Give me the sky, give me a new day to try until I’m floating, flying.
Touching a cloud, saluting mountains below as I pass them by.
Pink morning glow reflects in rivers below as I am launching, lifting.
I’m wrapped in the dawn’s enchantment when I fly.
Give me the sky.
Skimming the trees, and playing tag with the breeze, as I go roaming, rambling.
Give me this world, a eagle’s view of the earth as seen two miles high.
Breath-taking days, a mid-day sun that’s ablaze as I go sailing, soaring.
I savor the scent of freedom whan I fly.
Give me the sky.
I was born with the need to seek beyond the horizon for the thrill the journey brings.
I was born with the dream of setting sail on a rainbow. All I need is wings.
Into the blue, a sun-embraced rendezvous as I am circling, searching.
Time disappears as daylight turns into dusk with a hushed goodbye.
Sunset aglow, I swoop through shadows below as I keep diving, dancing.
I’m kissed by the mystic twilight when I fly.
Give me the sky.
I was born with the need to seek beyond the horizon for the thrill the journey brings.
I was born with the dream of setting sail on a rainbow. All I need is wings.
Lighter than air, upon a wing and a dare, as I keep cruising, climbing.
Dreams taking flight, until the universe hums the the moon’s lullabye.
Chasing a star, I know that I can go far if I keep reaching, rising.
I dance with the stars and planets when I fly.
I need to fly.
Give me the sky.