The poem
Little Annabelle to please, (Lacking grace, I grant), Grandpa down on hands and knees Plays the elephant. Annabelle shrieks with delight, Bouncing up and down, On his back and holding tight To his dressing gown.
As they roll and bowl along, Round and round the room, There is sunshine and a song 'Spite December gloom. Yet we hear not Grandpa's groans, Hushed his beard inside, As his old rheumatic bones Ache with every stride.
He has known his golden days, Soldiered with the best; And to prove the people's praise Medals bright his breast. Yet though his renown we chant, How we love him well When he plays the elephant Just for Annabelle!