The Day Off

GEORGE:
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...
Bumbum bum bumbumbum
Bumbum bum...
More shade...
More tail...
More grass!...
Would you like some more grass?
Mmmm...
SPOT (GEORGE):
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!
SPOT (GEORGE):
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
FIFI (GEORGE):
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—
Yep! Yep!
Everything's worth it Sunday
The day off
Yep!
Stuck all week on a lady's lap
Nothing to do but yawn and nap
Can you blame me if I yap?
SPOT (GEORGE):
Nope
FIFI (GEORGE):
There's only so much attention a dog can take
Being alone on Sunday,
Rolling around in mud and dirt—
SPOT (GEORGE):
Begging a bone on Sunday
Settling for a spoiled dessert—
FIFI (GEORGE):
Everything's worth it—
SPOT (GEORGE):
Sunday—
FIFI (GEORGE):
The day off
SPOT (GEORGE):
Something fuzzy...
FIFI (GEORGE):
Something furry...
SPOT (GEORGE):
Something pink
That someone tore off in a hurry
FIFI (GEORGE):
What's the muddle
In the middle?
SPOT (GEORGE):
That's the puddle
Where the poodle
Did the piddle
GEORGE:
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—
ALL:
The day off!

GEORGE:
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...
OLD LADY:
Nurse!
GEORGE, NURSE:
One day is much like any other
Listening to her snap and drone
NURSE:
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

FRIEDA:
You know, Franz—
I believe that artist is drawing us.
FRANZ:
Who?
FRIEDA:
Monsieur's friend.
FRANZ:
Monsieur would never think to draw us!
We are only people he looks down upon
GEORGE, FRIEDA:
Second bottle...
GEORGE, FRANZ:
Ah, she looks for me...
FRIEDA:
He is bursting to go...
FRANZ:
Near the fountain...
FRIEDA:
I could let him...
FRANZ:
How to manage it—?
FRIEDA:
No
FRANZ:
I should have been an artist.
I was never intended for work.
FRIEDA:
Artists work, Franz.
I believe they work very hard.
FRANZ:
Work!...
We work
We serve their food
We carve their meat
We tend to their house
We polish their
Silverware
FRIEDA:
The food we serve
We also eat
FRANZ:
For them we rush
Wash and brush
Wipe and wax—
FRIEDA:
Franz, relax
FRANZ:
While he "creates,"
We scrape 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

CELESTE #1:
Look!
CELESTE #2:
Where?
CELESTE #1:
Soldiers
CELESTE #2:
Alone
SOLDIER:
What do you think?
I like the one in the light hat.
GEORGE, SOLDIER:
Mademoiselles
I and my friend
We are but soldiers!
SOLDIER:
Passing the time
In between wars
For weeks at an end
CELESTE #1:
Both of them are perfect
CELESTE #2:
You can have the other
CELESTE #1:
I don't want the other
CELESTE #2:
I don't want the other either
SOLDIER:
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—
CELESTES:
Oh, spend—
SOLDIER:
—This magnificent Sunday—
CELESTES:
Oh, Sunday—
SOLDIER:
With you and your friend
CELESTE #2:
The one on the right's an awful bore...
CELESTE #1:
He's been in a war
SOLDIER:
We may get a meal and we might get more...
CELESTES, SOLDIER:
It's certainly fine for Sunday...
It's certainly fine for Sunday...
It's certainly fine for Sunday...

GEORGE, BOATMAN:
You and me, pal
We're the loonies
Did you know that?
Bet you didn't know that
BOATMAN:
'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...
ALL:
Taking the day on Sunday
After another week is dead
OLD LADY:
Nurse!
ALL:
Getting away on Sunday
Brightens the dreary week ahead
OLD LADY:
Nurse!
ALL:
Leaving the city pressure
Behind you,
Off where the air is fresher,
Where green, blue,
Blind you—