The giraffe sings to his Creator
It’s not easy being tall
(with legs like stilts
and doorknob knees)
extenuation’s not an asset
I don’t enjoy it at all
(with goal post legs
and knees like soccer balls)
I can’t jump, you know,
with either joy or frustration,
I can’t bend to the ground
without triangulation
furthermore, dear madam,
it’s a considerable pain
to have a neck
that resembles a crane
it’s not safe, you know,
and I turn quite pale
when the weather bureau
predicts a fierce gale
with my loopy legs
and my beanpole neck
I stick out a mile
I’m clearly a target
for any big cat
who can leap on a chap
and lay him flat as a tack!
What do you say to that?
I’m seriously in need
of a good renovation
so think twice next time
before you indulge in creation …
The Creator sings to the giraffe
I can’t answer the question
about prey and predator
never have been able to
and it does somewhat discredit moi
but you’re amazing
to elaborate would be surplus,
for my dear giraffe
I made poets for that purpose
rather than think of yourself
as a pathetic blunder
revisualise yourself
as an unparallelled wonder –
among the countless others of creation
such is the reach of my imagination.
