Rock-a-Bye Baby

Rock-a-bye my baby in the tree top tall.

Rock-a-bye my baby when the shadows fall.

Rock-a-bye my baby and we'll have a ball.

Did you know the moon is made of cheese?

Did you know that money grows on trees?

Did you know I picked a hundred Gs?

Close your eyes, close your eyes and away we'll fly.

Rock-a-bye my baby in the early bright.

Rock-a-bye my baby like a satellite.

Rock-a-bye my baby till you're out of sight.

Did you know the ocean's marmalade?

Did you know that TV stars get paid?

Did you know the Dodgers made that trade?

Now's the time to give your dreams a try.

Rock-a-bye my baby Rock, rock, my baby.

Let's start to count those sheep.

Rock-a-bye my baby Rock, rock my baby.

Won't you go to sleep?

Rock-a-bye my baby to the land of Nod.

Rock-a-bye my baby where the cherubs trod.

Rock-a-bye my baby Aren't cherubs odd?

Did you know my song is nearly through?

Did you know the sandman's overdue?

Did you know I'll soon be sleepy too?

Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye Rock-a-bye, my baby, bye!

Carla?

Mr Hermann, that client of yours is an ill-tempered beast in the morning.

Only after she's had her coffee.

Coffee! She's guzzling brandy, and it's only 8:30.

Who starts drinking before 10:00 a. M? I'm taking that offer from live television.

Tallyho.

Aren't you ashamed, exiling poor Harry to live television?

- He made a remark I didn't like. - Like?

- Like I'm putting on weight. - Well, so you are. And this doesn't help.

- Now don't you start in. - All right. You start in, what's wrong?

Nothing.

I can't figure why you're on the jug.

You've got everything to make you happy.

You're box-office. You're beautiful. You're single.

Every married man in town is trying to date you.

Your next picture is an epic.

Do you realise that every actress in Hollywood

would give her Sunday uplifts to play The White Virgin of the Nile,

a controversial bestseller?

What troubles can you possibly have that warrant 90-proof drowning?

Now don't cry, honey.

You haven't even seen the screenplay of The White Virgin of the Nile.

I talked to four of the screenwriters,

one of them who'd actually read the book,

and he told me they've only changed the last 200 pages of the original story.

Now, honey, please. You're still untouched in the script.

You've never seen a man. You don't even know what a man is.

I'm gonna have a baby.

Goodbye, Whitey the Virgin. Goodbye, 10%.

Goodbye, Bel-Air mansion.

Goodbye, Diners Club membership.

Stop mumbling. You're my agent, what do we do?

Don't say we. Does anybody else know about this?

- Only you. - Only me?

Only me?

And since when have the birds and the bees

changed their modus operandi?

- My husband was killed. - You're married?

That's not very funny.

Well, when did you get married?

Of course, if it's all legal, you can still play the White Virgin.

It'll just be a tougher acting job, that's all.

That's right, because I don't have a marriage license.

- What? - I don't remember where I was married.

It was somewhere in Mexico, that's all I know.

Mexico? You mean that publicity junket to Acapulco?

That's it. Then I met Carlos.

He was a handsome bullfighter.

It was one of those romantic, full-moon nights

like we have back home in Midvale.

Back home in Midvale, Indiana, they don't have bullfighters.

And no tequila. And that's what did it.

So, when Carlos suggested we get married,

it sounded like a good idea.

We drove to a little place. I don't remember getting there.

All I remember is waking up the next morning, back at Acapulco,

with a terrible hangover.

Think, honey, think. Try and remember where you went.

I'll fly down and make a Photostatic copy of the license.

I can't remember, it's a blank!

All right, all right, so you woke up hung-over.

And we realised we'd made a mistake.

We decided to have the marriage annulled

after the bullfight that afternoon.

But Carlos never came back from the bullfight.

So I tore up our marriage license and came home.

That'll be for me.

Tell them I'll be right there, for my last scene in pictures.

She'll be right there.

Good morning, sir. It's the chief.

Yes, Mr Rumpson?

A press conference announcing Carla as the White Virgin of the Nile?

Both Louella and Hedda will be there.

I'll come wearing my maternity dress.

I'm afraid Carla won't be able to make it.

You see, she's so thrilled about playing this great part

that as soon as she finishes retakes today,

she's going into seclusion.

How long ago was Acapulco?

Four months ago.

She'll be away five months, sir. Yes.

So as to get into the proper White Virgin mood.

Well, thank you, sir. Goodbye.

Now, you go away, let your hair go natural,

take the caps off your teeth, take the padding out

and no one will know you.

What happens five months from now, fast-thinking agent?

You have your baby in some out-of-the-way maternity home.

And what happens after my baby is born?

Well, you leave it somewhere and then, when the picture's finished, you adopt it.

Leave my baby somewhere?

I may not have been much of a wife, but I'm going to be a terrific mother.

I'm not leaving my baby with any strangers.

Oh, not strangers.

You leave it in Midvale with your father.

Papa's worse than a stranger.

He's had nothing to do with me since I left home.

There's your sister, Sandra. What about her?

She's coming out here for a visit.

I can't trust Sandy. She's too young.

And besides, she's always been jealous

because the boyfriend she liked was crazy about me.

Clayton.

- Clayton Poole. - Clayton Poole?

- Clayton Poole. - Clayton Poole?

Clayton is the one person I can trust.

Oh, thanks. That's nice.

After I've been practically an obstetrician to you.

I trust you, Harold. Fasten me up.

But Clayton really cares about me.

Why, if it hadn't been for Clayton, I wouldn't have had the courage

to enter the Midvale Milk Festival where the studio discovered me.

Oh, yes, I remember. Miss Butterfat of 1955.

And he's always wanted to be a father. He'll take wonderful care of my baby.

Well, we'd better call this rustic up. What's his number?

We'd better call him up and tell him he's expecting.

Give him a chance to lay in a stock of cigars.

I can't call back there.

You don't understand what a small town is like,

and, believe me, Midvale is a small town.

There isn't much to Midvale

except a few stores and buildings around the old town square.

Clayton and I used to meet under the statue of the hero of Midvale.

I remember how Clayton always looked up and told me

how some day he was going to also become a hero.

What's his number? I'll call him right away.

If Clayton ever received a long-distance call,

Miss Menefee, the telephone operator, would blab it all over town.

So we'll send him a letter.

Clayton never receives any mail.

No, a letter to Clayton would cause talk.

Are you sure this noble character still lives in Midvale?

Clayton lives on Euclid Street in a remodel led carriage house,

and the last I heard from my kid sister, Sandy,

Clayton was working for Mr Wright, who owns the Midvale television store.

How's it now, Mrs Van Cleeve?

Just a moment, Clayton. We have a new TV, darlings.

Now, don't you be impatient, sweetie.

- Clayton! - Yeah, Mrs Van Cleeve?

It's still snowing all over Art Linkletter.

Keep watching. I designed this aerial for fringe areas, it should work.

Hi, Tiger! Hey, Tiger!

- Is that you, Sandy? - It sure is.

When'd you get back from Hollywood?

This morning. Are you glad to see me?

Sure, I am, but I can't see you now. I get dizzy if I look straight down.

But I won't be too long.

How's it now, Mrs Van Cleeve?

A little better, Clayton, but Arthur is still fuzzy.

Keep watching.

Hurry, Clayton. I have something for you.

Something Carla sent you.

Carla sent something for me?

Oh, Clayton, stop clowning.

Clayton, what are you doing up there?

Hey, Clayton, stop it.

Clayton, cut it out.

Clayton, Mr Newland's been hurt.

Clayton, a brick hit him.

Mr Newland. I'm sorry, Mr Newland.

I'm sorry, Mr... I'm sorry, Mr Newland. I'm sorry!

Mr Newland! Mr Newland! Mr Newland!

Oh, is he hurt? I'm awfully sorry, Mr Newland.

Is he bleeding? I hate blood. I can't stand that.

Help me up with him, Sandy. You'll be all right, Mr Newland.

You can have my Blue Cross and you can take my green stamps also.

Sandy, shut that off, Sandy.

Oh, Mr Newland, I'm awful sorry. Wait, Mr Newland. Just take it easy.

I can't do it, Clayton.

Here, hold Mr Newland. I'll get it. Hold Mr...

Got it?

I can't get it, either.

Wait, Clayton.

I'm sorry, Mrs Waters.

Clayton, you come back here and fix that aerial.