The Hippopotamus

I shoot the Hippopotamus

with bullets made of platinum, Because if I use leaden ones

his hide is sure to flatten 'em.

The Dodo used to walk around,

And take the sun and air. The sun yet warms his native ground—

The voice which used to squawk and squeak Is now for ever dumb—

Yet may you see his bones and beak All in the Mu-se-um.