I want a bird that knows my name,
    I want a bird that flies.
  I want a bird that goes to sleep,
    I want a bird that cries.
  I want a bird that rings a bell
    while closing both its eyes;
  I want a bird that taps my shoulder
    when the laundry dries.

    A fabulous beast is the spider
    whose legs will grow wider and wider
            yet never explode,
            whatever their load
    of recently-brewed apple cider!

    A pitiful bird is the sparrow
    whose bones are so awfully narrow
            that when we dissect them
            and closely inspect them
    we find there's no room for the marrow!

    Since dogs are incurably feudal,
    they take as their leader the poodle
            whose face is absurd
            and barks like a bird
    but closely resembles a noodle!

        A slightly-confused brontosaurus
        who went by the name of Dolores
              was suddenly drowned
              when somebody found
        that part of her thigh-bone was porous!

        A butterfly, delighted with its wings
        enjoyed the garden, flapping to and fro.
        This movement - like a million tiny springs -
        exploded upwards, outwards and below
        to make the atmospheric pressure grow
        and end up causing, in a week or two,
        a sizable tsunami in Peru.

      Were I a fish, I'd choose to be a puffer
      and jab my prongs at any passing feet;
      for such an art of making people suffer
      would be - for fish - a way to feel complete.
          (And, anyway, the feeling would be neat:
          to sense a human stepping on one's tail
          then feel her body flip about, and fail.) 

    I once knew some colourful mice
        (one purple, one yellow, one blue)
    who liked to eat lentils and rice
        or, sometimes, asparagus stew;
            but if they ate spice
            the scene wasn't nice
        for, after a mouthful or two,
            they'd turn pale as ice
            and each pay the price
        in painful, extraordinary poo. 

        My cock is incredibly cocky
        and fills me with wild apprehension
    for if the thing's sex-life is rocky
    it sadly demands my attention,
            but if it has scored
            it can't be ignored
        but shows off to no-matter-who
            by waking at dawn
            as proudly as porn
        and screaming out "cookeri-coo!"

        Deep down in a kangaroo's pouch
        a joey constructed a couch,
                lay down in a lump
                and - with every jump -
        held on for dear life, and said "ouch!"