North of the Falls, deep in the wood,
Where the wild rivers bend and the trees stand for good,
Lived Riff-Raff the Giraffe, a sight most bizarre,
With knees facing backwards and spots shaped like stars.
His tail swished high, his neck curled low,
His hooves kicked wide when he tried not to show
That walking was tricky, that balancing hard
But he pranced like a king when he stepped in the yard.
For Riff-Raff was bold, and he longed for delight,
He dreamed of the laughter that rang through the night.
He wasn’t a singer, he wasn’t too wise,
But he told funny jokes, or so he surmised.
Each evening he’d stand on a stump by the stream,
His audience waiting, his moment supreme!
The gnomes in the shadows, the foxes on stone,
The owls in their branches, all waiting alone.
He’d clear his long throat, shake his tail, and declare,
“Prepare for the joke of the year if you dare!”
“Why did the baker bring flour to bed?”
He called with a confident grin.
The gnomes leaned in close, and they waited to hear…
“…So the biscuits could tuck themselves in?”
A pause hung in air, not a chuckle, not a clap,
The foxes looked sideways, the owls took a nap.
Even the Smoth blinked slow, unsure what he’d heard
Then the silence was shattered by one giggling word…
The gnomes howled and hooted, they cackled and wheezed,
Their laughter rang loud through the swaying dark trees.
They clapped and they jeered, they rolled on the ground,
But Riff-Raff stood tall, oh so proud of the sound!
“Oh Riff-Raff, you marvel! A comic so grand!
You tell jokes so clever we barely understand!”
They winked at each other and whispered behind,
For they knew that his jokes were the wrong sort of kind.
They didn’t laugh with him, they laughed at the show,
At punchlines that faltered, at words set to go
One way, then twisting to something so strange,
That laughter was easy and mockery plain.
The gnomes wiped their eyes as they gasped for more,
“Tell us another! Your jokes we adore!”
They clapped and they stomped and they howled with glee,
As Riff-Raff stood taller “They love me!” thought he.
He grinned and he preened, took a breath, struck a pose,
And called to the crowd, “Here’s a joke you all chose!”
He wobbled, he swayed, then his hoof caught a root,
He flailed like a flag, then fell, the poor brute.
Down went the giraffe, tumbling fast,
His tail flipped high as he landed at last!
A thundering parp! shot up through the air,
And the gnomes? Oh, they howled as they rolled everywhere.
“A Giraffe that stinks out a warehouse!” they cried,
Their laughter spread far through the trees, deep and wide.
“Oh, what a delight! Oh, what a fine joke!
He’s funnier falling than when he just spoke!”
Then suddenly WHOOSH! from the sky, swift and keen,
A cape caught the wind with a shimmer, a sheen.
Super Flying Rat, in his cloak of deep blue,
Descended with purpose, determined and true.
“Enough!” called the rat, standing firm, standing tall,
His voice cut the laughter, silencing all.
He turned to the gnomes, his eyes sharp as a blade,
“You laugh at his falls, but what jokes have you made?”
The gnomes shrank a little, but sneered all the same,
“Oh Rat, you are dull, this is all just a game!”
“The Backward-Giraffe! It’s the name that he’s earned!
For falling! For failing! For jokes that are burned!”
But Super Flying Rat only smiled, soft but bold,
And turned to the giraffe, with wisdom untold.
“They gave you a name, meant to mock, meant to tease,
But take it, reshape it, make it what pleases.”
Riff-Raff looked up, let the words settle in,
He thought for a moment, then grinned, yes, grinned!”
“I am The Backward-Giraffe!” he declared,
He stamped and he laughed, full of joy, full of flair.
He clambered back up to the top of his stump,
His hooves finding grip as he steadied the lump.
He raised his head high, let the cheers fade away,
And smiled as the crowd grew silent to stay.
The gnomes stayed quiet, no jeering, no shout,
For something had shifted, of that there’s no doubt.
This wasn’t the Riff-Raff who stumbled before,
This was the Backward-Giraffe, and they’d laugh on his terms once more.
He straightened his neck and he squared up his stance,
Then gave the dark gnomes just a quick, sideways glance.
“You laughed when I slipped, when I stumbled and tripped
So buckle up tight, this giraffe’s well-equipped!”
“What do you call it…just take a quick bet…
When a giraffe goes and swallows a jet?”
He waited a beat, then leaned from his deck.
“It’s simple,” he said. “A plane in the neck!”
“What do you get when you cross cow and me?”
He grinned. “A tall milkshake…sweet as can be!”
“And If a zoo had giraffes from morning till dark…”
He leaned in and winked. “That’s Giraffic Park!”
“Why don’t I play tag with a gnome when he roams?”
“Because one of us always stays out of the zones!”
The crowd burst with laughter, a warm, rumbling cheer,
From the owls in the trees to the foxes near.
Even the Smoth gave a slow, dreamy clap,
While the gnomes crossed their arms with a mutter and snap.
But Riff-Raff just chuckled and strode to the mound,
His voice cutting clear through the murmuring sound.
“I’m not done just yet…let’s see who’s around…
Someone whose snores shake the trees and the ground!”
He pointed a hoof to the edge of the floor,
Where the Elephant-Mouse gave a sheepish snore.
“With a trunk and a squeak and a nap so renowned,
I think it’s time that your joke made the round!”
He’s the size of a walnut, with ears like a kite,
And a trunk that he swings when he’s ready to fight!
He’s small as a pebble but snores like a drum,
You’d swear there’s a storm when he’s cleaning his bum!
“Why don’t Elephant-Mice have a welcome mat?”
“Because they sneeze it away every time they chat!”
“What happens when one runs under your bed?”
“The windows all rattle, and the cat hides in dread!”
The crowd burst again with a chorus of cheer,
Even the gnomes cracked a grin ear to ear.
The Elephant-Mouse gave a snort and a stomp,
Then curled up, proud, in his favourite pomp.
“Now don’t think I’m done,” Riff-Raff gave a spin,
“There’s still time for jests…shall we let some more in?”
“Why can’t the Smoth ever hold down a job?”
“She’s asleep in the day and at night she floats like a blob!
Her head’s in the clouds, and her wings float around…
You call her for work, but she can’t hear a sound!”
“Why don’t the foxes play cards in the den?”
“Because they keep outfoxing all of their friends!”
“And why don’t owls play hide and seek?”
“Because their heads spin around as they sneak and a peek!”
The gnomes shuffled slightly, their grins not as wide,
They sensed what was coming and glanced side to side.
But Riff-Raff just smiled and gave them a bow,
“You’ve laughed at us all…shall I have my turn now?”
“Why don’t gnomes ever get lost in the woods?”
“Because they cheat with shortcuts…of course they would!”
“Why did the gnome perch atop the clock tower?”
“To give his little behind a bit more brainpower!”
“What do you call a gnome that’s forgotten his name?”
“Gnor-man..,” he said…and the crowd roared the same!
“And what do you call one who’s sharp on his feet?”
“A metro-gnome…he never skips a beat!”
The foxes fell laughing! The owls all hooted!
The Elephant-Mouse stomped and the smoth even rooted!
But the gnomes? They shrank! Oh, what a defeat,
For the joke was on them, and they shuffled their feet!
The forest erupted in whistles and cheers,
As Riff-Raff stood taller, his pride loud and clear.
Super Flying Rat gave a nod, firm and strong,
For laughter had changed, it was true, it belonged.
Not cruel, not mocking, not twisted or strained,
But warm, filled with joy, never meant to cause pain.
And Riff-Raff stood proud, his heart shining bright,
For jokes told with love always land just right.
North of the Falls, deep in the wood,
Where the wild rivers bend and the trees stand for good,
The laughter still echoes, but now rings true,
For jokes are much sweeter when laughter is too.
And there on the stump, with a confident stance,
Riff-Raff the Giraffe leads the world in a dance.
His name once a tease, now a banner held high,
The Backward-Giraffe with his head to the sky.