The Day Off

作词 : Stephen Sondheim
 作曲 : Stephen Sondheim

 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—
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