We are fond of calling him "Man's Best Friend,"
What would he call us, if it were he who penned?
I wonder, would he have stayed at our feet,
Had we not mastered the grilling of meat?
Dog [Lyric Poem]
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Tag Archives: Lyric Poem
Elephant [Lyric Poem]
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.
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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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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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“Excelsior” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow [w/ Audio]
The shades of night were falling fast,
As though an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!
His brow was sad; his eye beneath,
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,
And like a silver clarion rung
The accents of that unknown tongue,
Excelsior!
In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright;
Above, the spectral glaciers shone,
And from his lips escaped the groan,
Excelsior!
"Try not the Pass!" the old man said;
"Dark lowers the tempest overhead,
The roaring torrent is deep and wide!"
And loud that clarion voice replied,
Excelsior!
"Oh stay," the maiden said, "and rest
Thy weary head upon this breast!"
A tear stood in his bright blue eye,
But still he answered, with a sigh,
Excelsior!
"Beware the pine-tree's withered branch!
Beware the awful avalanche!"
This was the peasant's last Good-night,
A voice replied, far up the height,
Excelsior!
At break of day, as heavenward
The pious monks of Saint Bernard
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,
A voice cried through the startled air,
Excelsior!
A traveller, by the faithful hound,
Half-buried in the snow was found,
Still grasping in his hand of ice
That banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!
There in the twilight cold and gray,
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,
And from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell like a falling star,
Excelsior!
Tiger Riding for Beginners 