Oh! to ride a giraffe's back--But I wonder
Should I pack a lunch? I have no doubt
I'll be up there a time! Will I melt if the sun
continues to shine? Would I fall apart in the
sandstorm? Would I blend with
forest green?

If I want down from that high place
Do I push a buzzer, ring a bell,
Or write a note--How can I tell the giraffe? I do
not know his tongue-- For you see, I've never ridden one!

Does he travel fast and far? Does he ever
stop to rest? I think
it might be
safer for me to watch a robin build his nest,
And just pretend that I, too, can fly--
Than to be aboard a body so high!

Does he go to cities, carnivals, or
Perhaps he joins a caravan?
The more I ponder on this matter--
Believe I'm much better where I am--
On the safe, steady ground
Instead of galavanting all around.

But I just realized too
I've only known this low ground
So am I now so sure I could not be free
And really seem to fly Giddy up now, Spotty!
I'm ready to go if you are!