Did you Effer

Did you effer seen some leetle poodle dog

Dat vas schnoodled oop so shnug upon a mat?

Did you seen some sheeps in clover, or a hog

Vhat could hardly valk around himself for fat?

Did you effer seen a cat vhat caught a mouse?

Or a poy vhat shtole a lump of sugar-cane?

If you did, I bet a pumpkin to a house

Dat you seen some beoples happy. Dat vas plain.

Und dat vas shoost like me,

Shoost so happy as could pe,

When first mine eyes dropped down on Sandra Yane.

 

She vas riding on a horse dat vos a mare;

Und she plushed all oop und down und looked so shy;

Der sun vos playing “peep-bo” mit her hair,

Und der shtars could neffer twinkle like her eye.

I could hardly mofe mineself for shtanding still;

I vos got all hot, and soon got cold again.

She shmiled at me, und cantered down der hill,

Und left me filled mit gladness in der lane.

Und der singing of der preeze,

As it murmured through der trees,

Vas like music, vhen I first seen Sandra Yane.

 

I vent courting Sandra Yane like efferyting;

Und she shmiled so sveet und soon shtuck oop mit me.

So I pought a leetle golden vedding ring,

Und ve poth vos shoost so happy as could pe.

She vos promise she vould lofe me und opey,

Und vould shtick to me mit sunshine und mit rain;

Und it seemed der vorld so happy vos und gay,

Dat I neffer couldn’t sigh no more again.

Und I sang vhen I vas talking,

Und I yumped vhen I vas walking,

On der day dat I got spliced mit Sandra Yane.

 

Did you effer seen some leetle poodle dog

Vhat his leetle tail got yammed between a door?

Or a cow dat vos shtuck fast into a pog,

Und vhat couldn’t neffer get him out some more?

Did you seen a man egstracted from his tooth,

Und vhat kick der teeth mit his pain?

If you vas yourself dat man und shpeak der truth,

You vas neffer vant to pe dat man again.

Dese are things dat vasn’t fun,

But shoost poil dem down to yon,

Und dat vos like I last seen Sandra Yane.

 

She vost shtanding mit her arms und elbows pare,

Und der vords she said dey make me feel so sick;

In her left hand vos a handful of mine hair,

While her right hand gripped der handle of a pick.

I could hardly stand me oop, I felt so sore,

Und I ran so hard I neffer shtopped again –

If I effer shows mine face to her some more,

I shall mighty quick pe numbered mit der slain,

For mine heart is in mine poots,

Und mine hair’s pulled out py roots –

Und dat’s der last I seen of Sandra Yane.