Don't Rain On My Parade.

Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter
Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter
Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade!

Don't tell me not to fly, I've simply got to
If someone takes a spill, it's me and not you
Who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade?

I'll march my band out, I'll beat my drum
And if I'm fanned out, your turn at bat, sir
At least I didn't fake it
Hat, sir, I guess I didn't make it
But whether I'm the rose of sheer perfection
Or freckle on the nose of life's complexion
The cinder or the shiny apple of its eye
I gotta fly once, I gotta try once
Only can die once, right sir?

Life is juicy, juicy
And you see I gotta have my bite, sir
Get ready for me, love, cause I'm a comer
I simply gotta march, my heart's a drummer
Don't bring around a cloud To rain on my parade

I'm gonna live and live now
Get what I want, I know how
One roll for the whole show bang
One throw, that bell will go clang
Eye on the target and wham
One shot, one gun shot, and BAM!
Hey Mister Arnstein here I am
Nobody, no, nobody is gonna rain on my parade!

Don't Rain On My Parade, Barbra Streisand.
Funny Girl Broadway, 1964.



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