My Menagerie

I have a feathered fishing fly,

That caught a flying fish;

It grabbed it by its scaly tail

As it swooped by with a swish.

I put it in a goldfish tank

By the parrot’s armoured car;

The bird I bought in Baton Rouge,

That each dawn squawks; “Bonsoir”.

The taxi driver’s pachyderm

Sits, stuffed, upon the stool;

The taxidermist drove the pack

Non-stop from Istanbul.

And when they reached Southend-on-Sea

They sunbathed in the rain,

Then went out for a training run,

And raced a running train.

Poor elephant, its heart gave out;

It couldn’t stand the pace.

It died there in the living room,

And cluttered up the place.

So by the peeling orange paint

It sits there, so genteel,

As bird and fish fly overhead,

I’m painting orange peel.

I’m standing in the sitting room,

My friends all flocked around;

The perch is flying through the air,

The fly perched on the ground.

The dog is lounging in the study,

So I study in the lounge.

Inside my knapsack, naps the cat,

With kippers that she scrounged.

At nighttime, when it’s time to sleep,

And all the lights are out,

The fruit bat raids the breakfast bar,

And dines on brussels sprouts.

You think I’m crazy, I can tell,

To live the way I do;

The terrace paved with astro turf,

To graze that goon gnu.

My friends and I all get along

In raucous harmony.

My sad ménage à un is now

My mad menagerie.