Poetry Archives

Little Annabelle to please,
     (Lacking grace, I grant),
Grandpa down on hands and knees
     Plays the elephant.
Annabelle shrieks with delight,
     Bouncing up and down,
On his back and holding tight
     To his dressing gown.

As they roll and bowl along,
     Round and round the room,
There is sunshine and a song
     ‘Spite December gloom.
Yet we hear not Grandpa’s groans,
     Hushed his beard inside,
As his old rheumatic bones
     Ache with every stride.

He has known his golden days,
     Soldiered with the best;
And to prove the people’s praise
     Medals bright his breast.
Yet though his renown we chant,
     How we love him well
When he plays the elephant
     Just for Annabelle!