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You know when I think about it now and what I have to do,
a lot of you folk out there would have a bit of envy too;
you see I'm a 'lacky' for a vet, well a nurse I s'pose is true,  
and sometimes I get to help out, down at a private zoo.

For some in my position it's a treat from sheep and horses,
or just the common cat and dog when giving out their courses
of tablets in the bottles, for hydatid, worms and fleas, 
and writing out receipts when owners pay their fees.

So I loved to go down to the zoo and grab a tiger by the tail,
or even box a kangaroo, or put a bison in the bale.
I loved to feel the ermine fur or check the throat of a giraffe,
but me favourite's always been, the monkeys for a laugh. 

But there can be some 'trip falls’; of this I have no doubt.
Well I had to have me stomach and me lungs pumped out
from working with an elephant, that's feeling pretty crook, 
and I was left to nurse him after the vet had had a look.

I listened for his diagnosis when he checked the 'pachy' out,
and after prodding here and poking there, he said "Without a doubt,
this poor old fellas in the wars" then looked at me and stated 
"I'll give you instructions what to do - he's only constipated!"

"Now" the vet reminded me "Here's what I want you to do,
I want you to fill an order form and book it to the zoo
for a hundred pounds of prunes, and two hundred pound of figs,
plus a hundred pound of artichokes, and berries, leaves and twigs."

"That's the natural helping hand to get some movement at the rear, 
but we can move it quicker if we use unnatural gear,
so put laxettes on the order form, and a hundred packs I'd say.
That ought to be enough I think to have some movement on the way." 

I spoke softly to the elephant and gave his trunk a pat,
while the vet continued on about where this old 'pachy's' at;
"You'll have to feed him slowly; this could take a week or two,
and make sure you listen or the onus could end up on you."

"Every hour on the hour give two pound of prunes and figs, 
then just one pack of laxettes and some berries, leaves and twigs,
and don't forget the artichokes, but only every now and then.
You'll have to walk him up and down the fence line in his pen."

Now I'd heard the vet’s instructions and his words "Now don't forget!"
But for some reason I believed I knew more than the vet,
and I knew the elephant that suffered with its blocked up drain,
would rather have me clear it quick to ease his nagging pain. 

So I said "Stuff the vet!" I'll have this 'pachy' cured by today; 
I'll fill him up with figs and prunes and then have laxettes on the way.
"So come on 'pachy' boy" I said while shoving in an artichoke,
"Come on, more prunes and figs" I said as more and more I stoke.  

The 'pachy's' sides were swelling out, and so too were his cheeks,
he'd taken in four hundred pounds that should have lasted weeks,
and still he stands there all-forlorn with no movement at the back,
and if there isn't any movement soon - how else can I attack!

He staggered left and then to right, but stayed upon his feet.
He must be ready to explode with all that stuff he had to eat.
I've got to think of something quick. Of course! Of course! Aha!  
I'll go and get some olive oil - and give him an enema.

Old 'pachy' stood with drooping head and eyes both dull and sad,
while I walked around the back of him with this olive oil I had.
I took off the cap and gently pushed the bottle in then round and round,
and the 'pachy' started twitching - and then I heard a rumbling sound.

And before I took a backward step, there's a few plops then a flood
gushing out all over me, like a dump truck full of mud!
I tried to shout for someone's help, but that’s to no avail,
for I'm somewhere in the mountain that shot out beneath its tail. 

I was burrowing like mad; me lungs were screaming out for air,
and I'm filling up with prunes and figs that rained upon me there. 
I kept fighting through the laxettes and the artichokes as well.
Now I know just what they mean if someone mentions 'living hell!'

Thank God I thought when in me fight I felt the helping press
of hands from blokes in over-alls; all from the S.E.S.
with masks upon their faces to protect from methane gas,
and a block and tackle all set up to drag me from the mass.  

Then I saw them drawing straws, for they thought that I was dead.
And the winner screamed, "No bloody way, I'd rather quit instead.
If he needs mouth to mouth then the bugger’s gunna die!"
Then I coughed up a couple of prunes and shot a fig into the sky.
   
I saw relief come on his face as now I coughed and spat out muck,
but I should have known to be alive is only half me luck,
for bits and pieces on those prunes caused more trouble to unfold ...
that's right, they hosed me down and then - the laxettes took a hold!

Of course the telly and the paper knew they got themselves a hit, 
when someone's buried to their neck, in half a tonne of … ‘muck!’  
Now my experimental diet's practiced by every vet and zoo,
when pachyderms pack up and they need a hand or two.

And I became an instant hit with what I'd say a huge profile,
but the vet got jealous with my fame and my inventive style,
so now when 'pachy's pack up, it's the vet who will entice, 
and constipation jobs I get these days are all involving mice!
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