Oh, I’ve got a lovely story that I’ve thought out all myself.
It will make a gorgeous picture, I am sure.
(Mind, it isn’t for the money, for I am not keen on pelf,
nd my attitude to Art is very pure.)
It is full of real heart-int’rest, mother-love and passion rare,
And gun-fights and a bad, bold man (who dies),
And a big, strong he-man hero with divinely marcelled hair;
And I really think it ought to win the prize.
The hero falls on evil days and sinks and sinks quite low
(This is where the villain comes upon the scene),
But the mother writes a letter pointing out the way to go
(We will show the letter, close-up, on the screen):
Then Augustus (that’s the hero) meets a lovely girl by chance,
With great, big, soulful, golf-ball, baby eyes,
And undying love comes to them at the very first brief glance.
Oh, I really think it ought to win the prize.
But ways of true love ne’er run smooth, and lots of dreadful things
Occur, and all their plans turn out amiss.
But thro’ the fights and flights and frights she clings and clings and clings
To win him with the last, long, luscious kiss.
I don’t know much of writing things – scenarios and such;
Still, one never really knows what one can do.
But the theme is so original and has so quaint a touch
That I think it ought to win the prize. Don’t you?