I’m different.
The others look at me as if I’m odd.
I wonder if my Mummy wishes I was sandy brown
with eyes that wouldn’t blink in the sun.
I’m different.
They all let me know.
Some are kind and sympathetic.
Others call me the “Wannabee”
or Whitey Wobbly…
It’s hard to make friends
when you don’t look the same.
It’s alright being white, but I do show the dirt-
but Mummy takes special care
to groom me behind my ears,
and she whispers to me
that I’m “You-Neek”
and she says that fiercely as if someone might doubt.
I think it means I’m special.
Perhaps being “You-Neek” is like being chosen,
perhaps I’ll be a famous jumper when I am big.
If I win the races, and jump the highest,
I will be different- I’ll be the best.
Perhaps being white is alright.
I think we’re the same inside our fur,
and I reckon God knows
that being different is OK
‘cos I think He chose the colour just for me.
Yes, “You-Neek” and proud to be me.
Would you like to be friends?
We could be different together,
and that would be quite nice.
Look, See, Pray 