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A year ago, last Thursday, I was strolling in the zoo, When I met a man who thought he knew the lot. He was laying down the law about the habits of baboons, And the number of quills a porcupine has got. So I asked him, "What's that creature there?". He answered, "Oh, it's a h-elk". I might have gone on thinking that was true. If the animal in question hadn't put that chap to shame, And remarked, "I h-ain't a h-elk. I'm a g-nu". "I'm a g-nu, I'm a g-nu, The g-nicest work of g-nature in the zoo. I'm a g-nu, How do you do? You really ought to k-now w-ho's w-ho." "I'm a g-nu, spelt G-N-U. I'm g-not a camel or a kangaroo. So let me introduce, I'm g-neither man or moose, Oh, g-know, g-know, g-know, I'm a g-nu!" I had taken furnished lodgings down at Rustington-On-Sea, Whence I travelled on to Ashton-Under-Lime it was actually. And the second night I stayed there I was wakened from a dream, Which I'll tell you all about... some other time. Among the hunting trophies on the wall above my bed, Stuffed and mounted, was a face I thought I knew. A bison? No, it's not a bison. An ocapi? It's unlikely, really. Could it be a hartebeest? When I seemed to hear a voice: "I'm a... g-nu..." "I'm a g-nu, A g-nother g-nu! I wish I could g-nash my teeth at you. I'm a g-nu, How do you do? You really ought to k-now w-ho's w-ho." "I'm a g-nu, spelt G-N-U, Call me 'bison' or 'ocapi' and I'll sue. G-nor am I in the least, Like that dreadful hartebeest, Oh, g-no, g-no, g-no... G-know, g-know, g-know, I'm a g-nu... G-know, g-know, g-know, I'm a g-nu!
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