The Day Off

If the head was smaller If the tail were longer If he faced the water If the paws were hidden If the neck was darker If the back was curved More like the parasol Bum bum bum Bum bum bum bum bum bum More shade More tail More grass! Would you like some more grass? Hmmm Ruff! Ruff! Thanks, the week has been rough! When you're stuck for life on a garbage scow Only forty feet long from stern to prow And a crackpot in the bow-wow, rough! The planks are rough And the wind is rough And the master's drunk and mean and- Grrrruff! Gruff! With the fish and scum And planks and ballast- The nose gets numb And the paws get callused And with splinters in your ass You look forward to the grass On Sunday The day off Off! Off! Off! Off! The grass needs to be thicker Perhaps a few weeds And some ants. if you would I love fresh ants Roaming around on Sunday Poking among the roots and rocks Nose to the ground on Sunday Studying all the shoes and socks Everything's worth it Sunday The day off Bits of pastry Piece of chicken Here's a handkerchief That somebody was sick in There's a thistle That's a shallot That's a dripping From the loony with the palette Yap! Yap! Yap! Out for the day on Sunday Off of my lady's lap at last Yapping away on Sunday Helps you forget the week just past- Yap! Everything's worth it Sunday The day off Yap! Stuck all week on a lady's lap Nothing to do but yawn and nap Can you blame me if I yap? Nope There's only so much attention a dog can take Being alone on Sunday Rolling around in mud and dirt- Begging a bone on Sunday Settling for a spoiled dessert- Everything's worth it Sunday The day off Something fuzzy Something furry Something pink That someone tore off in a hurry What's the muddle In the middle? That's the puddle Where the poodle did the piddle Taking the day on Sunday Now that the dreary week is dead Getting away on Sunday Brightens the dreary week ahead Everyone's on display on Sunday- The day off! Bonnet flapping Bustle sliding Like a rocking horse that nobody's been riding There's a daisy- And some clover- And that interesting fellow looking over Nurse! One day is much like any other Listening to her snap and drone Still, Sunday with someone's dotty mother Is better then Sunday with your own Mothers may drone, mothers may whine- Tending to his, though, is perfectly fine It pays for the nurse that is tending to mine On Sunday My day off You know, Franz-I believe that artist is drawing us Who? Monsieur's friend Monsieur would never think to draw us! We are only people he looks down upon Second bottle Ah, she looks for me He is bursting to go Near the fountain I could let him How to manage it-? No I should have been an artist. I was never intended for work Artists work, Franz. I believe they work very hard Work! We work We serve their food We carve their meat We tend to their house We polish their Silverware The food we serve We also eat For them we rush Wash and brush Wipe and wax Franz, relax While he "creates" We scrpe their plates And dust their knickknacks Hundreds to the shelf Work is what you do for others, Liebchen Art is what you do for yourself Look Where? Soldiers Alone What do you think? I like the one in the light hat Mademoiselles I and my friend We are but soldiers! Passing the time In between wars For weeks at an end Both of them are perfect You can have the other I don't want the other I don't want the other either And after a week Spent mostly indoors With nothing but soldiers Ladies, I and my friend Trust we will not offend Which we'd never intend By suggesting we spend- Oh, spend- This magnificent Sunday- Oh, Sunday- With you and your friend The one on the right's an awful bore He's been in a war We may get a meal and we might get more It's certainly fine for Sunday It's certainly fine for Sunday It's certainly fine for Sunday You and me, pal We're the loonies Did you know that? Bet you didn't know that 'Cause we tell them the truth! Who you drawing? Who the hell you think you're drawing? Me? You don't know me! Go on drawing Since you're drawing only what you want to see Anyway! One eye, no illusion That you get with two One for what is true One for what suits you Draw your wrong conclusion All you artists do I see what is true Taking the day on Sunday After another week is dead Nurse! Getting away on Sunday Brightens the dreary week ahead Nurse! Leaving the city pressure Behind you Off where the air is fresher Where green, blue blind you