Lament of a lady who's gone to the dogs

There was a time, there really was

When I was sweet and tender

When a show dog meant a Disney Star

And a Bitch was not a gender

I went to bed at half past ten

I went to church on Sunday

On Saturday I baked the bread

And did the wash on Monday

 

But when I got a certain pup

An erstwhile friend said, "SHOW"!

And oh what she didn't say

Oh! What I didn't know

 

I used to have a certain air

I wallowed in perfume

I used to smell of Ode D'Amour

Now I smell of Mr. Groom

 

My furniture was of exquisite decor

My pets a tank of guppies

Now I've furniture unstuffed

But well-adjusted puppies

 

Once I spoke in Pristine Prose

In dulcet tone and frail

But now I'm using language

That would turn a sailor pale

 

I was taught to be well-groomed

No matter where I went

Now all the grooming that I do

Is in the handler's tent

 

I used to long for furs and jewels

And a figure classed as super

Now the thing I yearn for most

Is a nice new pooper-scooper

 

I adored a man who murmured soft verse

Through intimate little dinners

But now the words I thrill to hear

Are just three ... "Best Of Winners"!

 

I rise at dawn and pack the car

The roads ahead are long ones

The one I routed on the map

Invariably is the wrong one

 

When my time on earth is said and done

I'll go without much nudging

Just give me three weeks closing date

And let me know who's Judging!

 

(Beryl Allen)

*****

 

Another, slightly different Version:

There was a time, there really was,

When I was sweet and tender;

When Show Dog meant a Disney Star,

and bitch was not a gender. 

I went to bed at half past ten;

I went to church on sunday;

On Saturday I baked the beans

and did the wash on Monday. 

But then I got a certain pup,

And an erstwhile friend said "SHOW",

And so I did and so I do,

OH! What I didn't know. 

I used to dress with flair and style,

That was the life, don't knock it.

But now each dress from bed to ball

Must have a good bait pocket. 

I used to have a certain air,

I wallowed in perfume,

I used to smell of Niut D'Amour,

Now I smell like Mr. Groom.

My furniture was haute decor,

My pets a tank of guppies.

Now I've furniture unstuffed,

And well-adjusted puppies. 

Once I spoke in pristine prose,

In dulcet tones and frail,

But now I'm using laguage,

That would turn a sailor pale. 

I was taught to be well groomed

no matter where I went.

Now all the grooming that I do

is in the handler's tent.

I used to long for furs and jewels

And a figure classed as super,

Now the thing I yearn for most

is a nice new pooper scooper. 

I adored a man who murmured verse,

through intimate little dinners,

But now the words I thrill to hear,

Are just three-"Best of Winners".

I rise at dawn and pack the car,

the road ahead's a long one.

The one I routed on the maps,

Invariably's the wrong one. 

I really love this doggy life,

I wouldn't care to change it.

But when I get that Best in Show,

I plan to rearrange it. 

When my time on earth is done,

I'll go without much nudging.

Just give me three weeks closing date,

and let me know who's judging. 

(Beryl Allen)