When first he thought he’d try to woo,
he took his date out to the zoo.
He paid her way and opened doors,
protected her from wild boars
that were, of course, all kept in cages,
viewers safe from all their rages.
Nonetheless he fantasized
that his date must be surprised
at his bravery and daring-do
as demonstrated at the zoo.
Later on, he thought it best
that they should have a little rest.
To fuel them for their promenade,
bought hot dogs, fries and lemonade,
then found a bench and sat them down
somewhere near to monkey town.
He found a napkin and tucked it in
somewhere between her neck and chin,
daubed mustard from her upper lip,
Oh, he was gallant, polite, hip!
Then, after they had had a rest
he thought perhaps it would be best
to resume their stroll to view
the llamas and the kangaroo.
When they loitered for awhile
‘tween hippos and the crocodile,
he thought it might not be remiss
to try to steal a little kiss.
And self-assured she wouldn’t mind,
he worried about just what kind.
Should it be passionate or peck?
Oh her lips or on her neck?
Would it be a sin of remission
not to ask for her permission?
And should his hands go high or low?
How was a kiss-rookie to know?
So, in the end, he shook her hand
between the gnu and the eland.
Then they resumed their galavanting—
monkey, lion, elephanting—
Better not to act in haste.
Thus this first date, alas, was chaste.