Twenty-seven years ago this week, a musical opened that wasn’t a hit – though it included a song called “It’s a Hit!” The show, of course, was Merrily We Roll Along – which closed 27 years ago NEXT week.

“It’s a Hit!” though, showed a joyous Frank and Charley celebrating the opening night of their new smash, Musical Husbands. They reminisce on how hard they had to work to attain this, and how so many times in their struggles they heard, “Boys, that’s just great. But next time, don’t be so clever.”

Ah, but cleverness used to be an important component of the Broadway musical. And to prove it, I decided to make a list of what I consider the Top 20 Most Clever Broadway Musical Moments. Not necessarily the best songs, or even the wittiest songs – but the songs that sprang from an idea or concept that one would have to admit is really clever. Here’s what first came to my mind. In alphabetical order:

“Apology” (Kean) – Edmund Kean, the pre-eminent Shakespearean actor of his age, has offended the crown. Now he must apologize – so what he does is use relevant quotations from Shakespeare to do the job for him. (Kean was based on a play where this didn’t happen; ‘twas bookwriter Peter Stone’s idea.)

“Backstage Babble” (Applause) – Friends and acquaintances come to Margo Channing’s dressing room after opening night. What can they say? “It’s a bomb.” “It’s a hit.” “If you want entertainment, this is it.” Lyricist Lee Adams tried that approach in an earlier version of the song, but came to the conclusion that he must just as well have everyone say nonsense syllables – which contain about as much content as anything they’d really say, anyway.

“Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man” (Show Boat) – Julie has black blood in her – but it’s a secret. Yet we’re among the first to realize that she’s passing for white by her knowing this song that only black people knew at the time. Not bad for a 1927 musical, wouldn’t you say?

“The Coconut Girl” (The Girl Who Came to Supper) – The European prince invites the American showgirl for a late-night snack – and perhaps more. She, though, would rather tell him about the musical she’s doing. Without dozens of her co-performers to help, our chorus girl has to do the whole show by herself.

“Conversation Piece” (Wonderful Town) – The party that doesn’t come off comes of splendidly, thanks to Comden and Green and Bernstein’s imagination. Remember, too, that this was just one of the songs the trio had to come up with in a mere three weeks, after they succeeded another team.

“The Contract” (Gigi) – This musical is often thought of as a light-hearted and delicious bon-bon – but isn’t it virtually about the selling of a young girl to an older man? Perhaps Alan Jay Lerner wouldn’t – or couldn’t – say as much when the film was made in 1958, but 15 years later, he sure did in this heavenly nine minute sequence where negotiators come down to brass tacks.

“Do-Re-Mi” (The Sound of Music) – Yeah, yeah, I can hear you moaning now. But is there any number in the Broadway canon that’s so taken for granted? Really, what could have been a better teaching tool to learn the scale than a description of each note with a visual image?

“Duet for One” (1600 Pennsylvania Avenue) – Only a handful of Broadway audiences saw this, and nearly a third-of-a-century ago at that – and yet, plenty still speak of it. Two First Ladies – the outgoing Julia Grant and the incoming Lucy Hayes – simultaneously show that they don’t like each other. You need someone as gifted as Patricia Routledge to pull this off, and, luckily enough, that’s just who they had.

“The Four Nightingales” (Minnie’s Boys) – Julius, Leonard, Adolph, and Herbert – eventually to be known as Groucho, Chico, Harpo, and Zeppo – are in stock, about to go on store and do their act. Then Leonard sees a backstage card game starting, and joins, as his unwitting brothers go on stage. When Julius sees the empty space, he endeavors to fill it by playing his role and Leonard’s, too. Lewis J. Stadlen was marvelous in doing double-duty.

“Il Mondo Era Vuoto” (The Light in the Piazza) – As soon as Fabirizio sees Clara, it’s love at first sight – exactly what so many musical theater heroes have experienced long before him. So what can he say that we haven’t heard before or need to hear? “Your lips, you eyes, your cheeks your hair are in a class beyond compare?” Adam Guettel wisely decided to let Fabrizio sing in Italian, for we pretty much know what he’s saying, anyway.

“Intermission Talk” (Me and Juliet) – This show brought us backstage at an average night at an average musical. But after the intermission, theatergoers got to see their audience member counterparts on stage, doing what the real theatergoers had just done: Discuss the show they were seeing. How they must have laughed as they heard what they’d just said over their orange juices and chocolate-covered cherries.

“A Little More Mascara” (La Cage aux Folles) – Neither the original play nor the famous film show Albin’s transformation into Zaza. Of course not: How boring that would have been, to just sit there watching his paint dry. But in a musical, our Albin can sing to himself during the transformation, making for a fabulous five minutes.

“A Little Priest” (Sweeney Todd) – What a playful way of making cold-blooded murder seem merry rather than macabre. That it becomes a challenge match of words also undercuts the horror of what these two crazies plan to do. And, oh, in a show that was turning increasingly operatic, how nice to have this real ol’-fashioned musical comedy to discuss during intermission.

“Rock Island” (The Music Man) – Train travel has been such a part of turn-of-the-century traveling salesmen’s lives that they haven’t even noticed that they speak in time to the locomotive’s chug-chug-chug. We do, though – and love them and Meredith Willson for it.

“Simple Little System” (Bells Are Ringing) – The composers’ names, we list ‘em with the race tracks in the land. Jule Styne set Comden and Green’s exceptional idea to pseudo-classical music, listing an alliterative code for each composer: Beethoven, Belmont Park; Puccini, Pimlico. And – hallelujah! – weren’t they lucky that Handel begins with the same letter as Hialeah?

“The Small House of Uncle Thomas” (The King and I) – Mrs. Anna has taught her Siamese students Uncle Tom’s Cabin – spurring Tuptim to write her Asian take on the book. Buddha sure made a miracle for Oscar Hammerstein and Jerome Robbins.

“Sounds While Selling” (She Loves Me) – A bunch of women come in to Maraczek’s to buy some wares. A lesser lyricist would have just made a few cute observations and rhymes and left it at that. Sheldon Harnick, though, instead cut from one conversation between buyer and seller to another, and then another. The result? Some funny images such as “I would like an eyebrow / under my / chin.” Thank you, Sheldon; please call again; do call again, Sheldon.

“The Tailor Motel Kamzoil” (Fiddler on the Roof) – A very different kind of dream ballet – for it’s one in which words are just as important. It’s dream for the actors, the audience and everyone except for Lazar Wolf.

“Useful Phrases” (Sail Away) – We’ve all seen and used them: Those guidebooks for foreign travel where our every need has been anticipated so that we’ll have the appropriate sentence at our fingertips. But do we really need such entries as “My cousin is deaf” or “Kindly bring me a hatchet”? Noel Coward didn’t think so.

“Who’s That Woman?” (Follies) – Sure, at any reunion of showgirls, one of them is going to suggest that they all do their favorite number from way-back-when. (Check out Life after Tomorrow, the documentary about aged Annies, and you’ll see them at their reunion doing “You’re Never Fully Dressed without a Smile.”) But to have these old showgirls mirrored by the ghosts of their beautiful-girl former selves was brilliant. So was Sondheim’s making the lyric to reflect a mirror, too. It all added up to the number that is alphabetically last on this list, but first in our hearts.

Actually, I have 20 more runners-up, which I’ll detail on Wednesday. In the meantime, let me hear from you on what you think I’ve missed. I won’t be surprised if they make my next 20.

You may e-mail Peter at pfilichia@aol.com