Applaud Yer Ape! Berate Yer Bee!

Applaud yer Ape! Though lackin' 
speech, fer
voiceless fellow 'poids she's
teacher.

Berate yer Bee…? Bunk! Bends* di-
rect her
brother bees towards hordes o' 
nectar.
     * Honeybees famously perform 
a so-called "waggle dance" (often
in a bee-loud glade), indicating
the location and distance away of
pollen, sometimes to the rhythm of
"Lean to the left; lean to the right;
wig-wag; zig-zag: start yer flight."

Creative Crabs crisscrawlin' 
sand, with
just the one claw, crave more
bandwidth!

Does doze yer Donkey late be-
cuz great
weight awaits? Ya know he
does, mate!

Each Eaglet early leaves his
aerie,
fearin': "Why's me head sans
hair, eh...?"

Fools followin' yer Fox dis-
cover
stench most foul. Those wise don’t
hover.

Give Gibbons credit fer some
sense: who'd
not grab gigs outside his 
fence? (You'd...?!)

Homebase fer Horses? Houyhnhnm-
land. So:
who's now hous’d near Samar-
kand…? (No!!)

Ignore Iguanas at yer
peril!
(Ish Kabibble did. So'd 
Carroll.)

Jail Brother Jackdaw -- just be-
cause he
jaws 'bout laquer’d claws? Oh,
Lawsy!

Ku-kudos to Ku-Kudus,
who, as
Ku-Kurt* knows, ain't call’d Gnu-
Gnu Ass.
     * Ku-Kurt Ka-Kasznar, of ko-kourse 

Let's hear it fer yer Lemur.
Leapin'
leezards! Look: his [BLEEP] be 
[BEEP]-in'!

Magnificent yer Mandrill
is! (He
makes one face that leaves me
dizzy.)

Nag not yer Narwhal! Nasty
business,
naff stuff: smacks o' parti 
prisness.

Oppose Opossums? Unpro-
ductive.
(Pope* insists it's 'soul-de-
structive.')
     * Not Alexander but that guy in the Vatican

Part dove, part mime, yer Para-
keet ('n'
budgie, too)'s parfait fer
eatin'.

Quit queerin’ it fer Quahogs,
will ya?!
I should so-o-o-o-o dislike to
kill ya.

Rah! Do raves fer Rabbits
get ya
ratin's 'round the hutch? You
betcha!

"Skadoodle!"? To yer Skunk? Fo'-
bidden!
(Keep his stripéd skin, though,
hidden.)

Thumbs up -- wa-a-ay up... fer yer
Thrush. Her
thighs – enthong’d -- could not be
lusher.

Unless ya feed yer Uni-
corn, he
eats yer shorts. (The problem's
thorny.)

Vote "Yessir!" for the Vole: his
voice speaks
volumes -- even though that
voice squeaks. 

Who'd whistle not (when "why?"'d, they're 
tearful)
back at Whales have earn’d an
earful.

Xerossify* yer Xerus?
Dried-up
bones? Ber"xerk"-- served sunny-
side-up.
     * A portmanteau coinage
amalgamating the concepts of
'dry' and 'bone' while calling to
mind the tune accompanying
the text "dem bones, dem
bones gonna walk around;
now hear the word of the Lord."

Ya'll'd yank yer Yak right off its
yacht? I'll
pray that Yahweh's not from
Rottweil.*
     * A small city in Germany near
the Black Forest, famous for –
well, you know…

Zip up the zipper of yer
Zibet?
Yes, if zits ya wish t'in-
hibit.