Her ears are made of the rarest silk,
Her tusks are solid gold,
Her skin as white and bright as milk,
With richness in every fold.

But when you look in her ruby eyes
A sadness you will see;
For knowing on the day she dies
She’ll be the last that can ever be.

For all her wealth and stately bearing
She wanders the world alone,
No one to love and no-one caring
In a life as cold as stone.

The elephantastic sleeps and dreams
Of elephants plain and grey
Whose lives to her at the least it seems
Are as happy as the day.