by Stephen Ogier 'Arold were an aardvark Or at least 'e thought 'e were, But 'e never were quite certain Because of all the fur. You see, 'e'd seen the other aardvarks Dressed in their birthday suits, An' so 'e knew that all of 'em Were as bald as green newts. It were down by the great river That 'e'd 'ad the revelation When 'e saw the others all undressed An' in the water, bathin'. An' then, of course, there were the ears For 'is were really small; In fact, on lookin' at th' others Seemed 'e 'ad no ears at all. Then again, there were their noses All nice an' long an' stout; While 'is were really quite petite, No more than just a snout. An' when it came to eatin' ants There were differences of note; 'E never liked the taste of 'em An' they tickled in 'is throat. An' while the others 'ad long tails, Why, 'is were just a stub, Not much bigger than a bumble bee Or a large dung beetle grub. Then one day, near the forest, 'Arold chanced to see A creature wot looked just like 'im An' 'Arold jumped wi' glee. So 'e walked up to the creature An' 'e asked it wot it were. It replied, 'Why, I'm a g'rilla. Can't ye tell by all the fur?' An' wi' this information 'Arold finally knew That 'e really weren't an aardvark But a g'rilla through an' through.
The end