Don't Put Your Daughter On The Stage Mrs Worthington... Part 1 Of A Series

My parents claim that from a very early age, I would sing & dance for them & their guests, & I would point to the TV & announce that- “I wanna do that. I wanna be in the TV… & with Ed Sullivan!” The parents say that my big number was- Istanbul (Not Constantinople).


I wanted to be a performer. Other subjects held my attention, but I certainly set my heart on being an actor/singer/dancer/stand up. I started training when I was 5 with piano lessons. My very loving parents gave their blessing & paid for every lesson I wanted to give a whirl: cello, string bass, voice, tap dancing, fencing.

Destined for stardom, 2nd from the left-front row

I started grabbing every opportunity to show em’ what I got. My stage début was age 6, in my elementary schools holiday pageant, where I wowed the audience with my spry wit & star power as Jack Be Nimble. I played piano & sang at every school talent show. In 5th grade, as a boy soprano, I performed in my school’s production of Hänsel und Gretel, an opera by 19th century composer Engelbert Humperdinck. I played the Sleep Fairy (a role that would come back to haunt me, when later in life, I have been known to occasionally fall asleep during sex). I was told by my teacher that it was professional & polished performance, & that I was correct to be on a path to stardom.

At Sacajawea Junior High School, I broke away from any possible adolescent shyness by performing at an all school convocation of talent, with my dizzying take on a Going Out Of My Head/ Windmills Of Your Mind medley in my brand new tenor singing voice. The student body was speechless, startled, stunned, & stupefied by my mature talent & good taste. Those 2 songs remain in my repertoire.

Don’t put your daughter on the stage, Mrs. Worthington

Don’t put your daughter on the stage
The profession is overcrowded
The struggle’s pretty tough
& admitting the fact she’s burning to act
That isn’t quite enough
She’s a nice girl and though her teeth are fairly good
She’s not the type I ever would be eager to engage

I repeat, Mrs. Worthington, sweet Mrs. Worthington
Don’t put your daughter on the stage
Regarding yours, dear Mrs. Worthington
Of Wednesday, the 23rd.


Although your baby may be keen on a stage career
How can I make it clear that this is not a good idea
For her to hope and appear, Mrs. Worthington
Is on the face of it absurd
Her personality is not in reality quite big enough, inviting enough
For this particular sphere
Don’t put your daughter on the stage, Mrs. Worthington
Don’t put your daughter on the stage


She’s a bit of an ugly duckling, you must honestly confess
& the width of her seat would surely defeat
Her chances of her success
It’s - it’s a loud voice, and though it’s not exactly flat
She’ll need a little more than that to earn a living wage
On my knees, Mrs. Worthington, please Mrs. Worthington
Don’t put your daughter on the stage
Don’t put your daughter on the stage, Mrs. Worthington
Don’t put your daughter on the stage


Though they said at the school of acting
She was lovely as Peer Gynt
I’m afraid, on the whole, an ingenue role might emphasize her squint
She has nice hands, to give the wretched girl her due
But don’t you think her bust is too developed for her age
No more buts, Mrs. Worthington, nuts! Mrs. Worthington
Don’t put your daughter on the stage

Noel Coward
1933