Skip to main content

The rabbit of Seville saves the day...

When I was a kid I used to watch Bugs Bunny with great delight. This clip is one of my all time favorites.

In the words of Bugs "Can't you see your next - you're so next..."

Nice boxers Elmer.

Here are some of the lyrics for the toon:
RABBIT OF SEVILLE
(Jones-1950)
How do??
Welcome to my shop, let me cut your mop, let me shave your crop
Daintily, daintily
Hey you!!
Don't look so perplexed, why must you be vexed, can't you see you're next
Yes you're next, you're so next
How about a nice close shave
Teach your whiskers to behave
Lots of lather lots of soap
Please hold still don't be a dope
Now we're ready for the scraping
There's no use to try escaping
Yell & scream & rant & rave
It's no use you need a shave
(oh ouch ouch oh ouch oh oh ouch)
There, you're nice and clean
Although you're face looks like it might have gone through a machine
Oh, wait until I get that rabbit
What would you want with a rabbit
Can't you see that I'm much sweeter
I'm your little senorita
You're my type of guy
Let me straighten your tie
And I shall dance for you
---

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

SWB: Claustrophobia and clearings

Mary Lue shared her host post on business and rest for this weeks Sleeping with Bread Examen. Her words resonated with me in the fact that due to a significant staff change at my office, there is more work to be done and my plate is feeling fuller lately. There have been more meetings, and lots of talking and planning. For the most part, I've felt much more connected to people since I've become more involved in this way, but oddly when I'm done for the day or night - I find myself in need of some quiet. Maybe I'm still sorting and planning in the back of my mind, but silence (even my own) is something I find myself being more and more drawn too. It's like the extra noise, both internal and external, makes me feel claustrophobic . A few days after Christmas, I went into a game store with my son and was overwhelmed by all the noise and activity there. The store was tiny but filled with kids and their parents vying for their video game of choice. My head felt hot, my

Sunny and rainy day friends

There are two kinds of friends in the world: Sunny day friends and rainy day friends. This is a statement that my Mom used to remind me of when I was in the midst of drama or conflict with one school friend of another. There are lots of people that we define as friends, but they are really acquaintances. Two men were out hunting in the northern U.S. Suddenly one yelled and the other looked up to see a grizzly charging them. The first started to frantically put on his tennis shoes and his friend anxiously asked, "What are you doing? Don't you know you can't outrun a grizzly bear?" "I don't have to outrun a grizzly. I just have to outrun you!" This story is funny, but it does help define the distinct difference between a rainy day friend and a sunny day friend. The sunny-day-friend is more concerned with watching out for their own health and wellness, than their friends' wellbeing. On the other hand, a rainy day friend is willing to take risks, work fo

What Summer Camp Means to Me...

  I was around six-years-old when I first went to sleep-away summer camp.  At the time I lived in PA and the camp (through my church) was in Ohio. All school year, I attended Sunday School faithfully partially because regular attendance allowed my family scholarships to help with the cost of Summer Camp. Over the school year, I attended most Sunday's and by the end of the year, my little coupon book was full of stamps - providing me with a scholarship to attend a camp session. I provide this background on how I first got to go to camp, because it is an essential part of explaining what Summer Camp meant (and means) to me.   Going away to Summer Camp gave me a whole new experience of community. The whole process of going to and attending was the first times I experienced, "it takes a village", personally. From the Sunday School Teachers who drove a sedan full of kids to Ohio, to the counselors and staff who supported new campers: through the first 48 hours of homesickness