Don’t Ask An Elephant Out To Lunch

Don’t ask an elephant out to lunch,

It will not daintily sip or munch,

Nor will it fit on a dining chair,

But spill all over it, everywhere,

And plunk its trunk across the table

Lean on its elbow, whenever it’s able,

And when it eats, will act like a beast

All sloppy and drippy, to say the least,

Will spill its greens all over the floor,

Or slurp down soda, and bellow for more,

Then wipe its mouth on the drapes nearby,

Or a lady’s dress,

Or gentleman’s tie,

And at the end of the meal, then he

Will burp, and never say “Pardon me!” –

And when the waiter comes with the bill,

Will pretend to mop an invisible spill,

Or will read a book,

Or will check its shirt

For an eensy teensy spot of dessert,

And you’ll have to pay for the whole darned meal,

From soup to nuts, and you’ll really feel

That you should have listened to my advice,

‘Cause lunch with an elephant

Isn’t

Nice!