I’m a gentle giraffe, who lives in a zoo br But I don’t seem the same as the others all do. br When I was born, did they make a bungle br Which means that I’m not like my kin of the jungle? br My brothers all shun me, like I’ve a disease, br Since I’m not very tall and I can’t reach the trees. br But there’s some sort of pride in the way that I’m dressed: br I haven’t got spots on my fur, like the rest; br I’m sure they look down on me, with high, haughty scowls br But I’ll counter back with some gruff, grudging growls br So they’ll cotton on, as I’m raging and roaring br That I’m not a creature they should be ignoring, br For my teeth are more sharp than the rest of the bunch br And I like to eat meat and not leaves for my lunch. br Another strange feature I’d like to explain br Is my neck is all covered in hair, in the main; br It’s always been like it, since I was a cub br But is that a reason to give me a snub? br I think I’ll break off and stop for a pause br To think up another short, sharp, clever clause br About my appearance, which is quite a tale br Which I lash in anger, but I’m sure that I fail br To describe myself fully, although I’ve been trying.