I rode a Hippopotamus the other night
In the cool dawn of the moon.
The dim light drew dark silhouettes
At my sides,
Of tin roofs burning cold in the dark
And dust-dry bill-boards
Lifting themselves on brittle stilts
Above the dry sand
To proclaim their messages.
We leaped over pottami,
My Hippo and I
And conquered slops in a lumbering stride.
"Where are we going?"
I had to inquire
For he had spat the bit
From his great square jaw.
Where are we going?
"Yes,"
Said the Beast.
"Yes! Yes!"