The English, the English, the English are best - I wouldn't give tuppence for all of the rest! - Michael Flanders

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.

Son, son, I admire your sincerity. Always be sincere - whether you mean it or not.

Pity the poor old rhino with
A bodger on its bonce.