Alphabet Soup

My name was Sally Dingle-Pratt.
Now how’d I get a name like that?

     Well, my mother was a Dingle and my father is a Pratt;
     They fell in love, and I was born,
     A baby Dingle-Pratt.

I was the only Dingle-Pratt,
And I was quite content with that.

     Then my mother left my father or my father left my mom
     Then mother married Larry
     And became a Finkelbaum.

Then mother took her Dingle-Pratt.
Away we went and that was that.

     And soon my little brother quite exploded on the scene,
     A little baby Finkel-BOMB,
     A baby poop-machine.

And still I was a Dingle-Pratt,
And getting less content with that.

     For there I was a Dingle-Pratt, and still the only one,
     With Finkelbaums surrounding me,
     So what else could be done?

Well, I became a Finkelbaum,
But dad got really mad at mom.

     With daddy so unhappy and with Finkelbaums galore,
     I gathered all my names around 
     And tried it all once more.

(Now the rhythm has to change;
It happens when a name gets strange):


     So now I’m a Dingle-Pratt-Finkelbaum. Phew!
     A mouthful of names for those with but two. 
     With a mom and two dads and each with a name
     And me with them all, all linked in a chain,
     I feel like I’m found; I feel like I’m bound;
     My name is the longest and craziest sound.
     Oh, sometimes I feel like I’m alphabet soup
     And everyone’s gathered around in a group.
     And each of them eats up a letter of me
     Till I’m swallowed up whole in the family tree.
     But maybe a name is a colourful ruse
     Made to amuse and made to confuse
     And made to disguise us in elegant hues
     And give us a thing that we think we can’t lose,
     Like walking through life with invincible shoes.
     Yes, I can wear any old name that I choose,
     So Dingle-Pratt-Finkelbaum IS what I’ll use.