I WONDER if an animal
Lives in the pillar-box,
For when the postman opens it
You see a cage with locks.
And surely letters do not want
A cage with bars and clamps;
They have no wings, they could not fly,
They're held by sticky stamps.
Perhaps the postman keeps a pet,
A savage beast of prey;
For lions, seals and diving-birds
Are fed three times a day.
And all those figures on the plate
Are meant perhaps for you
To learn what time the beast is fed
Like others at the Zoo.
And now I come to think of it,
The postman's coat and hat
Is not unlike a keeper's who
Feeds animals with fat.
Besides, he always shuts the door
With a tremendous bang,
As if he feared to see stick out
An irritable fang.
But then again I never heard
The faintest roar or squeak,
I never saw a sniffing nose
Or spied a hooky beak.
So after all perhaps there's not
A bird, a beast or snake.
And yet to-morrow I shall post
A slice of cherry-cake.
