Little Annabelle to please, <br /> (Lacking grace, I grant), <br />Grandpa down on hands and knees <br /> Plays the elephant. <br />Annabelle shrieks with delight, <br /> Bouncing up and down, <br />On his back and holding tight <br /> To his dressing gown. <br /> <br />As they roll and bowl along, <br /> Round and round the room, <br />There is sunshine and a song <br /> 'Spite December gloom. <br />Yet we hear not Grandpa's groans, <br /> Hushed his beard inside, <br />As his old rheumatic bones <br /> Ache with every stride. <br /> <br />He has known his golden days, <br /> Soldiered with the best; <br />And to prove the people's praise <br /> Medals bright his breast. <br />Yet though his renown we chant, <br /> How we love him well <br />When he plays the elephant <br /> Just for Annabelle!<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-old-general/
