[LAUREN BACALL]
There once was a boy named Lenny
Whose talents were varied and many
So many that he was inclined
Never to make up his mind
In fact, he was so gifted
He seldom felt uplifted
Just undefined

Poor Lenny
Ten gifts too many
The curse of being versatile
To show how bad the curse is
We'll need a lot of verses
And take a little Weill:

[A sudden intrusion of Lenny's vamp to "Conversation Piece" from Wonderful Town, then back to Kurt Weill.]

Lenny made his mind up
When he was three
He'd write a show, a ballet
And a symphony
But once the winds were tootled
And the first strings plucked
He decided it was terrible—
He'd have to conduct
Poor Lenny
Time and again he
Complained, "I'm in this dreadful bind
I feel for Leonardo—
God, genius is so hard—oh
You can not make up your mind."

[A brief passage of ballet music from On the Town, followed by the "Conversation Piece" vamp, then back to Weill again.]

Lenny made his mind up
When he was nine
He'd be not only Bernstein
He'd be Rubinstein
"But just Rubinstein" he grumbled
"That's like calling it quits
When there's Hammerstein
And Wittgenstein
And Gertrude and Blitz"

Poor Lenny
Knew there and then he
Might easily get over-Steined
From Ein- to Ep- to Jule
To Lichtenstein—
No, truly
He could not make up his mind
[A snatch of "Gee, Officer Krupke," followed by a variation on the "Conversation Piece" vamp, which continues underneath.]

Lenny made his mind up
At twenty-two
To do whatever Pinza
Or Astaire could do
Though his voice was truly base
He had the charm of a kid
And if the dance floor didn't suit him
The podium did

Poor Lenny
Wondering when he
Could show off all his gifts combined
Began a TV feature
It's best to be a teacher
When you can't make up your mind

[The vamp of "Carried Away" from On the Town, continuing underneath.]

Lenny made his mind up
At twenty-eight
That marriage and a family
Would be just great
But he had no time for weddings
Till the great day came
He was free between a tennis
And an anagrams game
Poor Lenny
Worse though, poor Jennie
Who muttered all those years, resigned
"I don't care if he picks a
Schlimazel or a shiksa
He should please make up his mind"

[A couple of passages from West Side Story and Trouble in Tahiti, then back to Weill straight up.]

Lenny made his mind up
At forty-six
That maybe atonality
And rock would mix
Though it certainly was serial
With rhythm on top
It had lots of snap and crackle
But not enough pop

Poor Lenny
Pacing his den, he
Was worried he'd be left behind
He mumbled, "How ironic
Atonal is a tonic
When you can't make up your mind"

(spoken)
"So is minimalism..."

[Another vamp from West Side Story, then Weill.]

(sung)
Lenny made his mind up
At seven-oh
To be a modern Renaissance
Like, man, you know
And there's virtually nothing
That he hasn't done—
So get ready for his club act
At seventy-one

Poet, pundit, seer
Politician, skier
Still at sea at threescore ten
Decked with every laurel
Lenny, here's the moral:
Do whatever pleases you and when

Follow all your talents
Don't attempt to balance
Shower us with every kind
Share your every vision
Stick with indecision
Don't make up
You shouldn't make up
You mustn't make up
Don't ever make up—

Live another score
Write another score and
Don't make up your mind!