His taste was odd to say the least, he sampled every form of beastAs patron of the London Zoo he savoured birds and insects tooAte garnished beetles fried on rye and baked a crusty rhino pieFor birthdays or a special treat he'd cook the dodo's tender feetA slight eccentric in his ways he boiled an elephant's trunk for daysAnd when it proved too tough to slice he turned his gourmet skills to miceInvited guests for Sunday roast were served white mice on buttered toastFollowed by a steaming stew of wild colonial kangarooOf course he had his share of flops, like smoked giraffe and panther chopsBut all in all he cooked good fare, the best, said he, was polar bearA delicacy of the rarest kind for it was still quite hard to findGrilled and turned from time to time and all washed down with dry white wineEccentrics all on his father's side, begun with frogs in formaldehydeSo who would have thought he'd come to be a genuine celebrityA friend of swells and royalty who were treated to a splendid teaWho politely nibbled, but never scoffed for they were brought up to be toffs
