Cerian Cantwr |
In all of the world there’s one sorrowful sight
That’s so dolefully low that one feels for its plight. The elephant whose affections are not returned Is the saddest of souls, oh that poor pachyderm. He writes mammoth sonnets, sings her praise to the sun - An elephant’s love poem is produced by the ton. But alas he’s rejected, dejected, chagrined It’s hard for a pachyderm to be so thin-skinned. He pines for his love through the long lonely night, Bugling songs to the stars ‘neath the moon’s silver light. And when comes the dawn he goes down to the water, But is left all alone by his inamorata. So sadly our amorous swain slowly goes. You can’t pack up your troubles when the trunk is your nose. Our colossus of melancholy mourning this fate - His feelings so tender she won’t reciprocate. The brooding behemoth craves some affection, But the she he adores gives him naught but rejection. Though his plight may be hopeless he still strives undeterred. While surrounded by others he’s alone in his herd. |
This page maintained by Cerian Cantwr, cerian@minstrel.com. |