im down
To breakfast by the Nile:
The heart beneath his priestly gown
Is innocent of guile;

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When suddenly the rigid frown
Of Panic is observed to drown
His customary smile.

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Why does he start and leap amain,

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And scour the sandy Libyan plain

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Like one that wants to catch a train,

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Or wrestles with internal pain?

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Because he finds his egg contain--
Green, hungry, horrible and plain--
An Infant Crocodile.

The Vulture

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The Vulture eats between his meals,
And that's the reason why
He very, very rarely feels
As well as you and I.

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His eye is dull, his head is bald,
His neck is growing thinner.
Oh! what a lesson for us all
To only eat at dinner!

The Bison

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The Bison is vain, and (I write it with pain)
The Door-mat you see on his head

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Is not, as some learned professors maintain,
The opulent growth of a genius' brain;

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But is sewn on with needle and thread.

The Viper

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Yet another great truth I record in my verse,
That some Vipers are venomous, some the reverse;
A fact you may prove if you try,

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By procuring two Vipers, and letting them bite;

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With the _first_ you are only the worse for a fright,

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But after the _second_ you die.

The Llama

[Illustration]

The Llama is a woolly sort of fleecy hairy goat,
With an indolent expression and an undulating throat
Like an unsuccessful literary man.

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And I know the place he lives in (or at least--I think I do)
It is Ecuador, Brazil or Chili--possibly Peru;
You must find it in the Atlas if you can.

[Illustration]

The Llama of the Pampasses you never should confound
(In spite of a deceptive similarity of sound)
With the Lhama who is Lord of Turkestan.

[Illustration]

For the