Why you shouldn't leave me alone with eight syllables

Screaming Hairy Armadillos

     Should you ask me "whence this screaming?
Whence this noise and such kerfuffle?
With the sense of senseless shrieking,
With the odd unearthly grunting,
With the sound of pain and torture
And a tone of great displeasure,
With its ceaseless high-pitched keening
And its awful oscillations
Just like children playing chasey?"
     I should answer, I should tell you:
"Over there by yonder burrow
Where the grass and dirt seem farrowed,
Where the shade and sun are dappled,
There doth live the armadillos,
Live the hairy armadillos,
Screaming hairy armadillos.
Those called 'screaming' for they scream much,
Those called 'hairy' for they have hair,
Hair in all their nooks and crannies,
More than normal armadillos”
     Should you ask why they are screaming
Why they raise a noise so horrid
Why they sound like bloody murder
I should answer, I should tell you,
“They do scream at all discomfort,
Scream and scream at such a volume,
With a sound like broken banshees
Or a hedgehog in a foul mood.
     “Though their skin is hard and hairy
Still they have so few defences
That they scream to ward off strangers,
Scream to save themselves from danger,
Scream like children fond of screaming,
Scream like raptors in a movie,
Or a baby feeling cranky.”
     If still further you should ask me,
Saying, “Why, though, are they screaming?
Tell us what has happened to them,”
I should answer your inquiries
Straightway in such words as follow:
     “In the zoo are vets and keepers
People dressed in green and khaki,
People paid to care for critters,
And they often need to touch them,
Need to touch the beast they care for,
Need to pick them up and hold them,
Need to poke them with a needle,
Need to look in ears and noses.
They do poke and prod the critters
Just to check if they are healthy.
     “And the hairy armadillos,
Screaming hairy armadillos,
Do not like the pokes and prodding
Do not like to be collected
By a man with khaki trousers
Who would pick them up and hold them
And inspect their nooks and crannies
And administer the needles
To their soft and squishy bellies.
     “So they scream, the armadillos,
Scream like hairy armadillos
Scream because a man in trousers –
Khaki trousers with green trimming –
Has picked up an armadillo
And is looking at its soft-bits,
And it really does not like that.”