The Giraffe and the Zebras
A herd of zebras was grazing on the African plain
They were a blur of black and white and from far looked the same
Each zebra was individual, but who could tell?
All had stripes and that... zebra smell
Then among their midst, what else would pass
But a single lone giraffe
Every zebra's head turned; they saw long legs and spots
They knew right away that this creature was not
One of them. All of the zebras were afraid.
What was this strange animal that just had to invade?
Those zebras looked up, their necks all craning
But it was no use; they were only straining
"What are YOU doing here?" one asked, unsure
But the giraffe just walked on without saying a word.
That Zebra cried out:
"Who does this thing think she is, walking among our herd?
She is not like us. I think her venture's absurd.
No black and white stripes; just big spots of brown
And she always walks on without much of a sound.
Her neck is so long; her head must touch the sky
Her legs are long too. All about her is high
We're all down on earth; her head's in the clouds
She eats from the trees, a long tongue reaching for leaves
I don't know about you others, but I think she's a freak!"
And all of the others quickly agreed.
They would jeer over everything about the giraffe.
Her spots just so gave them the right to laugh
And it annoyed them that she stayed yet did not talk back.
The zebras looked about, each identical face
Said, "We don't want this strange giraffe in our space."
But danger soon came: a lion prowled
Its predator's eyes stared the whole herd down
The zebras knew one of them would soon be dead meat
A zebra to a lion is an easy defeat
Then as the lion began to approach
Ready to come at a zebra's throat,
The giraffe swung her long neck and with her hard head fought the lion off.
As the lion retreated, the zebras stood in shock
They did not speak a word. They did not or breathe, blink, or laugh
They had been saved by their own outcast.
By the time they recovered, the giraffe was gone
They could see her silhouetted by the setting sun
A herd of zebras was grazing on the African plain
Life for them had gone back to being the same
Their lives had been saved by that one standing out from the crowd
Who did not make a sound and was not at all proud.
So why bother with stripes? Why all be the same
When that giraffe had much more to gain.