There’s a Hippo in my doorway
And a mighty big grin he’s got
My old Aunt Charlotte, she’d like it a lot

His tongue is huge and pink
And his teeth are sharp and white
His eyes they’re black as a starless night

His feet are fat and round clear from his belly to the ground
With skin all wrinkly and grey
I always wonder how long it is he’ll stay

Will my mother finally see him
Or perchance might my father catch a sight
And end once and for all our silly little fight

I see him plain as day most every night
But no one else can claim such luck
And if my mom would let me I’d say, “who then made this muck?”

For a Hippo, you see
Is far larger than either you or I
As is made evident by his bi-nightly pie

I like my Hippo
At least I think I do
He’s really quite nice aside from an occasional pee yoo

His card playing is really sharp
And he excels at the game of hangman
Riddles though, of those he’s never been a fan

A twenty pound watermelon pill, green and red and round
His mighty maw with ivory teeth and jaws of steel
Make light work of such a paltry meal

I wonder though, and who wouldn’t
Just how he gets there
Outside my room at the top of the stair

No sound ever precedes him
No puff of smoke or flash of light
Stop my heart’s beating he just might

And when he goes
All sudden and complete
I’d be inclined to say, that’s quite a feat

A two ton Hippo
Who stands over five feet tall
Really shouldn’t fit there anyway, no not really at all