King of the Jungle?
They call me The King of the Jungle
Oh yes, I’m the top of the pride
From my long flowing mane, to the tip of my tail
To the power and strength in my stride.
Why just look at my dagger-like teeth
And the gleam of my deadly sharp claws
It’s no wonder at all that they stutter and stall
When they see the great yawn of my jaws.
Just look at the way that I stalk my prey
As a hunter I come out on top
But here is the thing that bothers this King
Yes it's true and it just has to stop.
Don’t call me The King of the Jungle
For I don’t mess about climbing trees
Everyone knows that the home that I roam
Is the African plains if you please.
Oh yes, I’m the top of the pride
From my long flowing mane, to the tip of my tail
To the power and strength in my stride.
Why just look at my dagger-like teeth
And the gleam of my deadly sharp claws
It’s no wonder at all that they stutter and stall
When they see the great yawn of my jaws.
Just look at the way that I stalk my prey
As a hunter I come out on top
But here is the thing that bothers this King
Yes it's true and it just has to stop.
Don’t call me The King of the Jungle
For I don’t mess about climbing trees
Everyone knows that the home that I roam
Is the African plains if you please.
This poem is copyright (©) Ruth Stevenson 2024
About the Writer
Ruth Stevenson
Ruth grew up in the Wild West of Ireland telling tall tales and having adventures real and imagined. She enjoys writing stories and poems for children and is a little obsessed with the sea. If she ever grows up she hopes to be a children's writer, but until then she is happy working as a primary school teacher. Her stories have been shortlisted in the Writementor Magazine short story competition and the Searchlight Children's Writers Award and she has featured on several Book Jive Live events. She is currently studying with The Golden Egg Academy.
