The mighty, mighty elephant
Isn't known for being elegant,
But you can't disbar him from your soiree,
And expect he'll show on moving day.
Elephant [Lyric Poem]
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Category Archives: Lyric
Buffalo [Lyric Poem]
Never punch a Buffalo!
They may seem dim and kind of slow,
But they hold a grudge to the last,
And - besides - you're not exactly fast!
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Zebra [Lyric Poem]
The zebra's form of camouflage
Only works with an entourage.
The Savanna isn't black and white,
But with herds it's hard to see where to bite.
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“The Poets light but Lamps –” (930) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]
The Poets light but Lamps --
Themselves -- go out --
The Wicks they stimulate
If vital Light
Inhere as do the Suns --
Each Age a Lens
Disseminating their
Circumference --
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Giraffe [Lyric Poem]
There are few things so useless that
They're as useless as a Giraffe’s hat.
I guess that’s why you never see
One in a bowler, fez, or beanie.
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Bee [Lyric Poem]
I see the humble bumble bee,
Or should I say I see its rump.
It snugged in, made itself cozy --
To get away it's far too plump.
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Crocodile [Lyric Poem]
The Crocodile has a toothy smile,
And, Oh My, is he so proud of it.
I'll sing his praises (play Croc-o-phile)
As long as I'm ten feet above it.
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Cheetah [Lyric Poem]
The Leopard cannot change its spots;
Maybe an obese Cheetah can
Blot out all of those old, black dots
With an orange cheese powder tan.
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“The Friend” by A.A. Milne [w/ Audio]
There are lots and lots of people who are always asking things,
Like Dates and Pounds-and-ounces and the names of funny Kings,
And the answer's either Sixpence or A Hundred Inches Long,
And I know they'll think me silly if I get the answer wrong.
So Pooh and I go whispering, and Pooh looks very bright,
And says, "Well, I say sixpence, but I don't suppose I'm right,"
And then it doesn't matter what the answer ought to be,
'Cos if he's right, I'm Right, and if he's wrong, it isn't Me.
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“A Dream Within a Dream” by Edgar Allan Poe [w/ Audio]
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow --
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand --
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep -- while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
Tiger Riding for Beginners 