Vicugna, my love

Dearest Vicugna,
barking queen of the andes,
tresses flowing upon the high winds,
soft downy soul raised in the shelter of the high mountain cove.
Thine face is of tranquil beauty,
your eyelashes long and silky brush 'gainst the high heavens, and brought swaying gently back down to mortal earth,
In the dewy meadow, chewing on the end of a blade of grass,
you steal me heart, oh Vicugna, Vicugna Pacos,
Proud Alpaca and wily little bastard that stole my mother's ancestral comb from on top of that shelf that I left there and carefully guarded for years only to find your furry little behind escaping around a corner and the ivory comb missing. Frankly my dear, your beauty is overrated.
Don't make me make a scarf out of you!