The Married Life of a Duck and a Giraffe: poem

The Married Life of a Duck and a Giraffe

There's a little house down the road.
Peer through the window and you'll see
What looks like a joyful little duck
And a giraffe watching their TV.

The duck and giraffe fell in love
And were married at City Hall.
They honeymooned in India
And visited the Taj Mahal.

When they returned to Canada
They lived a happy life.
The giraffe was a thoughtful husband;
The duck, a loving wife.

Sadly, things turned sour.
They were struck by tragedy.
The giraffe fell ill with a serious case
Of cancer of the knee.

Things were touch and go,
But I'm glad I can report:
The giraffe pulled through, only he
Became a lot more short.

The duck pretends things are fine
But they aren't fine at all.
What had attracted her to her husband
Was that he'd been so very tall.

The giraffe finds comfort in booze.
Getting plastered on port and sherry.
Seeing light through a purple glass
makes his sad life seem more merry.

The duck sneaks out, late at night
wrapped snugly in her shawl.
In hotel rooms she has affairs
with the stars of basketball.

Sometimes the giraffe has fantasies,
they are terrible, French, étrange.
He imagines murdering his little wife
and cooking canard a l'orange.

The two animals barely speak, now.
It's habit that keeps them married.
Life is comfortable but dull.
It will continue 'til they're buried.

As you peer through the window,
the giraffe and duck look so swell.
But look closer and you'll understand:
Married life is hell.