Dave, a gifted baritone and lyricist, and Charlotte, a classical pianist and opera-buff, combined their love of greyhounds and music to turn the world’s favorite opera melodies into a series of playful arias (in English, of course!) about the heroic hound, Flea-garo. Sung to the music of the great operas, the storylines even retain an essence of the original plots.
Enjoy Dave’s lyrics for each new aria:
They call me Flea-garo
I’m a Greyhound, and singer so eager-oh
Greyhounds are fast
but I’m dead outta gas
cause I’m being surpassed
by the nastiest sassiest bug
I have an itch in a spot that I cannot reach
la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la, la!
It’s on the back of my neck
underneath my leash
La-la-a, la-la-la, la-la-la, la!
Ah, could it be
that infernal flea
that fur-borne flea-ee-ee-ee
out of sight parasite,
“Flea Qualita! Flea Qualita!”
If I had shorter hindquarters than Greyhounds have,
stumpy legs, more like those of the Terrier
I’d swat that flea standing straight up on my back calves,
which would make my life all the more merrier!
But my long legs allow this pesky flea
to just nip as he pleases at me
pester me leisurely
La-di-dah, di-di-di
Itchy boy, Flea-garo
poor itchy me
Maybe a barber, one who shaves poodles
who with his scissors likes to go “snip”
Certainly he could shear off my fur
sending that flea on a one-way trip
Tra-la-la, La-la-la
La-la-la, La-la-la
La-la-la, La-la-la, La-la-la, La
Meanwhile that creeper
digs even deeper
making this hound
in circles run ‘round
My sharpest tooth
can’t reach to soothe
I’m upside down
with my back on the ground,
(lento) scuffing the roadside
against my itchy hide
Scratching’s not helping
Still, I am yelping
Oh where is the hairstylist found?
The one who could prune this flea-infested grey-hey-hey-hound?
I need a barber
one old-fashioned barber,
a “barbershop” barber
bald, chubby barber
di qualita! di qualita!
Just then a pole!
Red-and-white pole
A twirling pole
I’ve reached my goal
finding this ol’
candy cane pole
old pole with soul
I go insane
seeing this cane
Children galore
fill up the store
And that flea seems aware,
jumping ‘round in my hair,
that the fat mustached man
with those scissors in hand, is a pro
Flea-garo, Flea-garo.
Flea-garo, Flea-garo, Flea-garo,
Flea-garo, Flea-garo, Flea-garo
“No Dogs Allowed”
but I’m not proud
I beg for help
Please give me your best cut
a true crew cut
buzz cut!
The barber smiles
which riles the bug without a snip
and so it jumps
“Yea, Flea-garo!”
lands in the sink
“Yea, Flea-garo!”
It stays afloat
as if by rote
flapping its wings
nothing to sting
My itch is gone
I sing a song
to that wet flea
drifting a sea
Nothing to scratch
Nothing to scratch
Nothing to rub
Nothing to rub
It’s in the tub
The flea’s in the tub
The flea’s in the tub
The flea’s in the tub
The flea’s in the tub
Bravo, bravissimo
Bravo, bravissimo
Let’s sing fortissimo
cause the Great Flea-garo’s free of that
mean little, lean little, lean little
black and fluorescent green bug
Bravo, bravissimo
Bravo, bravissimo
to my great Barber
more than a coiffeur, this monsieur with a scissors in hand
leads the band
like a virtuoso,
so give him a hug!
He sent Flea-garo’s pest away
With that, my itching ends today
It ends today, but gone to stay?
No way, no way!
“Bravo, Flea-garo!”
When my sleep
is too disturbed or deep
this dreaming Greyhound creeps
back to his crate-bound days
let out to gra-hab at
phony jack ra-hab-bits
In this nightmare, though, the rabbit’s chasing me
Then what appears
as furry bunny ears
become those of a steer
a charging bovine male
Flea-garo, “Way-hake-up!”
If not, then tay-hake-cup
bullfighting cause toro
is stampeding near
As I snore, I hear a snort and roar
This napping matador is
shaken to the core
I taunt Toro with my cape
that’s red
and Toro’s sharp horns rip my cape to shreds
Wake up, Flea-garo, the bull’s not been fed!
Toreadog (“Taw-ray-uh-daw-hog”)
in my awful dream
here comes two tons of Angus steam
But this hound has found a way to beat the bull
and with cape, pulls the wool
over its lunging horns, sidesteps away
Yippie Kai Yay, Ole!”
(chorus) Toreadog
“Flea-garo!” roars the crowd
But to my ears
that’s not as loud
as the advances of a
seniorita Pooch
there to give me a smooch
But as our muzzles meet,
why, I wake up
a safe but lonesome pup
Toreadog, Toreadog , Toreadog!
Nessun Dog-ma, Nessun Dog-ma
The brand new morn approaches,
Bye-bye to buenas noches
The rooster crows
to the swooning chickens chirping so
Another day solo
This puppy needs his rest and slumber,
needs to saw wood and saw some lumber
Ah-ha, but Flea-garo
eyes awake,
lies wide awake,
like an owl (hoot-hoot) not hound
Thanks to my Greyhound sight
I spied a fluff delight
I vowed I’d woo
my first Shih-Tzu
(female chorus)
But when he ran up to her side
He felt so tall, he almost died, oh no,
and miles above her
Still, more I loved her
Though short as she,
we would never be
(Verse 2)
Nessun Dog-ma, Nessun Dog-ma
My snubbing Princess Shih-Tzu said
that I’d be better bred
for where there’s lard
a Saint Bernard
But I would not buy her rejection
I know she’s hungry for
this hound’s affection, so I put,
first her left, then her right foot,
upon my footstool, she stood
with me eye to eye
nose to nose
heart to heart!
Donna, immobile, eh?
Frozen, not much to say,
Before this song is done,
you’ll love another one
You’ll spy some poodle’s cut
Oh, how he’ll drive you nuts!
Or a stray Malamute
that coiled tail, so cute
Friends say I should forgive her
But what am I, chopped liver?
She’ll stray and stray
as I love her more each day
I must appeal
Please Donna, heel!
I love you more each day
I, I love you mo-ho-hore each day
(verse 2)
Overweight for his knees
is your great Pyrenees
Why with him would you flirt?
I leave him in the dirt
In trots your Terrier
With him, hysteria
I’ll take your Pit Bull on,
ever so nonchalant
Please, Donna, don’t be fickle
Your fancy I can tickle
We’re both Greyhounds,
in love, and by nature bound
We’re fast and sleek
Long legs, thin cheeks
In love and nature bound
In love and nature bound!