the warthog (the hog beneath the skin) - flanders & swann lyrics
h-llo, that’s donald swann at the piano, i’m michael flanders. some of you will remember our hippopotamus song, well, we’ve got a number of other songs about animals we’ve written that we’d like to sing for you, and first we’d like to sing to you, er, what would you like to sing first, donald? ds: my dear chap, do you think we could do the warthog? mf: the warthog? what a splendid idea! ds: ah, splendid, my dear chap, good. mf: yes, and this is number one on the label, too. it’s the rather sad story, though it has a happy ending, of the hog beneath the skin.
the jungle was giving a party a post hibernation ball the ballroom was crowded with waltzing gazelles, gorillas and zebras and all. but who is that animal almost in tears pretending to powder her nose? a poor little warthog who sits by herself in a pink satin with blue bows. again she is no-body’s choice and she sings in a sad little voice:
no one ever wants to court a warthog though a warthog does her best i’ve spent a lot of money for a warthog i am perfumed and prettily dressed i’ve l-strinsed my hair i’m perfumed here and there my gums were tinted when i brushed my teeth i’m young and in my prime but a wallflower all the time ‘cos i’m a warthog just a warthog i’m a warthog underneath
take your partners for a ladies excuse me!
excited and radiant she runs on the floor to join the furor and fuss. she taps on each shoulder and says ‘excuse me!’ and each couple replied ‘excuse us!’ then having no manners at all they sing as they dance round the hall:
‘no one ever wants to court a warthog though a warthog does her best her accessories are dazzling for a warthog she is perfumed and daringly dressed we know her these and those are like marilyn monroe’s her gown is just a scintillating sheath but she somehow fails to please ‘cos everybody sees she’s a warthog just a warthog she’s a warthog underneath’
head hanging she wanders away from the floor this warthog whom n-body loves then stops in amazement for there at the door stands a gentleman warthog impeccably dressed in the act of removing his gloves. his fine chiseled face seems to frown as he looks her first up then down
‘i fancy you must be a sort of warthog though for a warthog you look a mess that make-up’s far to heavy for a warthog;; you could have chosen a more suitable dress did you have to dye your hair? if that’s perfume give me air! i strongly disapprove of scarlet teeth but let us take the floor ’cause i’m absolutely sure that you’re a warthog just a warthog the sweetest little, neatest little dearest and completest little warthog … underneath’.
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