POEM: The Hippo

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The Hippo never took an oath

to watch its weight or check its growth.

Hungry, Hungry, it is in deed.

Five hours per day it’s known to feed.

The Greeks called it the river horse.

A horse that’s not a horse, of course, [of course.]

Hippos do like rivers, though they don’t float.

Submerged below, they’ll wreck your boat.

Where else can one find two tons of fun?

But careful, don’t think them too fat to run.

They’ve been clocked at 30 miles per hour,

and there’s scarcely a thing they won’t devour.

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