Penguins

No matter what the hour may be Penguins are dressed to dine, And have a gentle dignity,— Stuffy—but yet benign,— As though their minds dwelt much on soup, On walnuts, and on wine.

But really this is not the case; The dinner Penguin's wish At any time, in any place, Is just entirely fish; They do not even want it cooked Or served upon a dish.

They have a quite misleading air,— For when parading by Each looks as though he ought to wear An eye-glass in his eye, And at the least an opera-hat And a little white bow-tie.

But you can't judge by what you see,— For the keeper at the Zoo Says Penguins love simplicity In everything they do, And go to bed at four o'clock Winter and summer too!

He says a Penguin all day long Very politely plays; He does not fight—though he is strong— Or let his temper blaze, But lives up to his lovely clothes In lots of different ways.

He says he calculates they own An ancient family tree, And down in the Antarctic zone They never bend the knee.— I'm glad they're friendly though they have So long a pedigree.