Work Text:
The Wonderful Wiener Dog Waltz
by Fannie Feazell (Scribe)
http://www.scribescribbles.com
Little Miss Inga, the wiener dog
went out one day
for a morning jog.
No time for playing,
no time for fun.
This was no more than
a job to be done.
She was a serious minded pup--
until someone turned a radio up.
Little Miss Inga heard a sweet sound,
so pretty she stopped
and looked all around.
"Goodness," she thought.
"That's a lovely thing.
It's enough to make me
want to sing."
"What nonesense," she thought.
"Dogs cannot sing.
But I can do
one other thing."
Little Miss Inga
got up on her feet,
up on her hind legs,
pretty and neat.
Then she began
to dance all around,
with dips and with twirls,
with leaps, turns, and bounds.
No, she couldn't sing,
and she had her faults,
but Inga could dance
the Wiener Dog Waltz.
She danced with elegance, style, and grace,
a delighted grin
on her doggy face.
But she danced hoping no one
would ever see.
For Inga valued
her dignity.
The Simon, a black and white tuxedo cat,
heard the gay song.
He came and he sat
and watched the small wiener dog
twirling around.
He thought her a most
amazing hound.
Then Simon stepped up with a courtly bow
and asked Inga to dance
with a gentle, "Meow?"
"Why, yes," said Miss Inga.
"I'd love to, kind sir."
And off they both went,
whirling round in a blur.
They danced and they capered,
around and around,
the black and white cat
and the black and tan hound.
Nobody saw them, nobody knew.
Just Inga and Simon,
only those two.
But all good things must come to an end.
The dance and song stopped,
but they parted as friends.
Simon went off
in search of a mouse,
and Inga returned
to her own little house.
It was only one dance,
and long, long ago,
but Inga remembers it fondly
and so...
If her legs twitch and she woofs
in her sleep,
She's not chasing rabbits,
nor yet counting sheep.
She's gone to a place
far, far away
where cats and dogs dance
the live long day.
Where the sun always shines
and the song never halts
Inga is dancing
the Wiener Dog Waltz.