by Raymond "Beppo" Paretzky.
fair Zelda Zebra embarked on a trip;
“Zurich,” she said, “is my destination.”
Zelda was a poet of some reknown,
all Zebras knew her by reputation.
young Zelda, though, deZired human fame,
her Zero status caused consternation,
poor Zelda badly needed good advice;
“Zat,” she thought, “can change my situation.”
near Zurich , ’twas rumored, lived a poet,
a Zestful lover of Byron, that card.
“he’s a Zany versesmith,” she told her friends,
“Ze humans hold him in high regard;
the Zenith of my life ’twould be t’meet him;
no Zebra ere before has tried so hard.”
so Zooming through the ultra-clean Swiss streets,
fair Zelda galloped t’ward this trendy bard.
she Zipped on into the outskirts of town,
with Zen-like focus on impending bliss;
a Zephyr wafted by her outstretched hoof,
the Zurich air fresh as a lover’s kiss.
but Zap! just when her lofty goal was close,
her Zebra hopes deflated with a hiss;
in Zealous search of versely fame, alas,
Zelda the turn to Herrliberg did miss.
as Zelda hoofed it through the ancient burg,
the Zurich Zoo appeared in her vision;
“if Zebras Zere can help me find my way,
Zounds! I might yet achieve my ambition.”
she Zigged into the path of an elephant,
she Zagged in time to avert collision;
at Zero hour she found a Zebra friend:
with Zoe’s help she’d fulfill her mission!
young Zoe doubted not just what to do,
“i’ll Zip away to ask my dear granny--
she’s eating Ziti made by Uncle Scott
plus Zucchini stew cooked by Aunt Franny.”
though taking Zoloft to treat depression,
old Zena’s wisdom was quite uncanny.
“Zelda,” she said, in her deep smoky voice,
“follow Zis road to find Ze bard Zanny.”
off Zelda went, now back on the right path,
her Zest for her task in no jot reduced;
’pon Zurich’s busy streets, crowded with men,
fair Zelda Zebra once more had been loosed.
“Zilch can stop me,” she told herself proudly;
her Zeal from her friends had gotten a boost.
she Zoomed on with gifts, to bring the great man,
a wooden Zither and a book by Proust.
when Zelda at last reached quaint Herrliberg,
she Zipped up her finest black and white dress;
the Zit on her nose with make-up she hid,
then Zelda prepared his doorbell to press.
“but what’s Zis, on Ze door, I see a note!
oh, Zeus!” she swore, it caused her such distress;
the poet Zanny had gone to New York,
Zero were her options--oh what a mess!
“but Zere, look,” she exclaimed, “a second note!”
“for Zelda,” she read with a sigh of relief,
“my Zebra friend, you have come from so far,
to Zurich t’learn how to part with your grief;
but Zis morning from Lady Lamb I heard:
‘Zanny,’ she said, ‘find the doge, Lord Oak Leaf,
to Ze big apple must you get yourselves,
Ze Byron crew will dine on rare roast beef’.”
“yet Zelda” -- so continued Zanny’s note,
“a Zebra to poetic heights can climb;
a bard needs Zero talent: look at me,
a Zillion pounds my verse earned in its time.
go home to Zaire , just remember Zis,
any Zebra can deviZe a pleasant rhyme;
a Zeal to self promote is what transforms
a Zest for fame into a quest sublime.”
so Zelda read, and then, sighing deeply,
the Zebra began the long homeward trek:
from Zurich she traveled all night, and then
by sea to Zanzibar, she slept on deck;
through Zambia next she wearily cantered,
at last Zaire--by then she was a wreck.
but when the Zebras asked, “how was your trip?”
Zelda replied, “well, you know, what Ze heck,
Zough Ze bard was gone, he still taught me Zis:
Zebras of versely skill need not a speck;
rather, to be like Zanny a great success,
a Zebra must be a pain in Ze neck!