How the Whale got his Throat.

The Camel’s hump is an ugly lump
  Which well you may see at the Zoo;
But uglier yet is the hump we get
  From having too little to do.

Kiddies and grown-ups too-oo-oo,
If we haven’t enough to do-oo-oo. 
    We get the hump—­
    Cameelious hump—­
The hump that is black and blue!

We climb out of bed with a frouzly head
  And a snarly-yarly voice. 
We shiver and scowl and we grunt and we growl
  At our bath and our boots and our toys;

And there ought to be a corner for me
(And I know there is one for you)
    When we get the hump—­
    Cameelious hump—­
The hump that is black and blue!

The cure for this ill is not to sit still,
  Or frowst with a book by the fire;
But to take a large hoe and a shovel also,
  And dig till you gently perspire;

And then you will find that the sun and the wind,
And the Djinn of the Garden too,
    Have lifted the hump—­
    The horrible hump—­
The hump that is black and blue!

I get it as well as you-oo-oo—­
If I haven’t enough to do-oo-oo! 
    We all get hump—­
    Cameelious hump—­
Kiddies and grown-ups too!

    How the Camel got his Hump.

I am the Most Wise Baviaan, saying in most wise tones,
‘Let us melt into the landscape—­just us two by our lones.’ 
People have come—­in a carriage—­calling.  But Mummy is there.... 
Yes, I can go if you take me—­Nurse says she don’t care. 
Let’s go up to the pig-styes and sit on the farmyard rails! 
Let’s say things to the bunnies, and watch ’em skitter their tails! 
Let’s—­oh, anything, daddy, so long as it’s you and me,
And going truly exploring, and not being in till tea! 
Here’s your boots (I’ve brought ’em), and here’s your cap and stick,
And here’s your pipe and tobacco.  Oh, come along out of it—­quick!

    How the Leopard got his Spots.

I keep six honest serving-men
  (They taught me all I knew);
Their names are What and Why and When
  And How and Where and Who. 
I send them over land and sea,
  I send them east and west;
But after they have worked for me,
  I give them all a rest.

I let them rest from nine till five,
  For I am busy then,
As well as breakfast, lunch, and tea,
  For they are hungry men.

But different folk have different views;
  I know a person small—­
She keeps ten million serving-men,
  Who get no rest at all! 
She sends ’em abroad on her own affairs,
  From the second she opens her eyes—­
One million Hows, two million Wheres,
  And seven million Whys!

    The Elephant’s Child.

This is the mouth-filling song of the race that was run by a Boomer. 
Run in a single burst—­only event of its kind—­
Started by Big God Nqong from Warrigaborrigarooma,
Old Man Kangaroo first, Yellow-Dog Dingo behind.