by: Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953)
- he Camelopard, it is said
- By travellers (who never lie),
- He cannot stretch out straight in bed
- Because he is so high.
- The clouds surround his lofty head,
- His hornlets touch the sky.
- How shall I hunt this quadruped?
- I cannot tell! Not I!
- I'll buy a little parachute
- (A common parachute with wings),
- I'll fill it full of arrowroot
- And other necessary things,
- And I will slay this fearful brute
- With stones and sticks and guns and slings.
POEMS BY HILAIRE BELLOC
|"The Camelopard" is reprinted from The Bad Child's Book of Beasts. Hilaire Belloc. London: Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co., 1896.