What Do Hippos Listen Too On Their I-Pods?

I come from the jungle
From Popocatepetl
Chief of the clan
Hippopotamomae
But when the filthy great volcano
Wiped out my fellow hippos
I was the only individual to survive

Hip-hip-hip Hippopotamomus
Pop-pop-pop Popocatepetl

We rolled in mud
Deep in the bed of the river
Were monster fat
And loved only disgusting things
We rummaged about for truffles
Then shat them out in the forest
By the fabulous tombs of Aztec kings

One day as I lay humping under Popocatepetl
The volcano started pumping down hot liquid metal
A flood of steaming lava erupted like Pompeii
And stuck me forever to the hippo I was fucking that day

Then a team of boring scientists shoved us in a crate
Packed it up with straw and then conveyed me and my mate
To the Museum of Natural History, where between two stuffed camels
They stuck us in this case labelled 'Copulating Artiodactyl Mammals'

So press your nose against the glass of the case of the Hippopotamomus
Lithe, wriggling schoolgirl, blowing kisses, making eyes
So blithely unaware, as you snigger at my lust
You'll be in this position by and by

A bold Hippopotamus was standing one day
On the banks of the cool Shalimar.
He gazed at the bottom as it peacefully lay
By the light of the evening star.
Away on the hilltop sat combing her hair
His fair Hippopotamine maid.
The Hippopotamus was no ignoramus
And sang her this sweet serenade.

Mud! Mud! Glorious mud!
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood.
So, follow me, follow, down to the hollow,
And there let us wallow in glorious mud.

The fair Hippopotamus he aimed to entice,
From here seen on the hilltop above,
As she hadn't got a ma to give her advice,
Came tip-toeing down to her love.

Like thunder the forest re-echoed the sound
Of the song that they sang as they met.
His enamorata adjusted her garter
And lifted her voice in duet.

Mud! Mud! Glorious mud!
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood.
So, follow me, follow, down to the hollow,
And there let us wallow in glorious mud.

Now more Hippopotami began to convene
On the banks of that river so wide.
I wonder now what am I to say of the scene
That ensued by the Shalimar side?

They dived all at once with an ear-splitting splash,
Then rose to the surface again,
A regular army of Hippopotami
All singing this haunting refrain.

Mud! Mud! Glorious mud!
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood.
So, follow me, follow, down to the hollow,
And there let us wallow in glorious mud.

Words by Michael Flanders
Music by Donald Swann and Michael Flanders

because ALL creatures deserve portable music.

neener-neener. read the lines.

This implies that this wonderful thread is an exercise in futility. We're listing what hypothetical FUTURE hippos with snort/grunt recognition iPods would hypothetically listen to. so nanny goats....or hippos

well as long as everyone else is cheating:
Tower of Power "What Is Hip-po?"

Aaron is right. Live in the now.

I disagree. Most of the songs humans listen to are about humans in some way.

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