I've got a hippo in a tank in the cellar,
Of which Granny knows nothing – as yet.
I know that I ought to tell 'er
'Cause she said I could not have a pet.

In the bathtub I've got a warthog,
it's making a mess and a half.
And perhaps I could shut up the bullfrog
if I put it in the loft with the giraffe.

The porcupine lives under my pillow,
the bat hangs on a hook by the door,
under the blanket there's my armadillo,
I sleep on a rug on the floor.

The two gorillas are a constant worry,
they're in the shed where we keep the junk.
And the lodger moved out in hurry;
I suspect it's because of the skunk.

My python's wrapped itself round the heater,
the daily fainted right into her pail,
the neighbours are scared of the giant ant-eater,
and the postman won't deliver the mail.

I really hope my Mum will remember
to bring me that red kangaroo
when she gets back from Oz in November;
it'll be grand to have one in my zoo.

In the kitchen Gran was having a drink.
Thank God her eyesight is bad!
If she had noticed my frogs in the sink,
I'm sure she'd have been hopping mad.

The vultures, they breed in the attic,
they are an exceptional sight.
And Gran's hearing may be problematic
but she complains about noises at night.

The bear makes a mess on the lino
and the baboons go bananas and shriek.
And if Granny came across my rhino
on the landing one day, she would freak.

She always noses 'round when I'm at school
imagine just what she might find...
Well not to worry, I'm not a fool
I'll hide the pets in the back of my mind.