Baby, Come to ESPA
To the tune of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside”
(new lyrics by Anna & Paul Nugent)
Lonely Playwright & Spirit of ESPA sing:
I really can’t write (baby, come to ESPA)
This is my plight (baby, come to ESPA)
This year has been (been hoping that you’d sign-up)
Totally shite (I’ll hold your hand, let’s do re-writes)
My mother says come home honey (beautiful you’re so funny)
My father says New York is for whores (listen to the subway roar)
So really I’d better scrap it (it’s not much out of your pocket)
but maybe just a half a script more (come in through that big metal door)
the actors might faint (baby it’s bad out there)
say what if it ain’t (no gigs to be had out there)
I wish I knew how (you’re typing like starlight now)
to write a song (I’ll take your name, this form ain’t long)
I ought to write a musical (hey, the guys from South Park can)
at least I’m gonna say that I tried (now it seems you’re hitting your stride)
I really can’t write (oh baby shout it out)
both: baby, come to ESPA!