It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday;
The curious crowd courses in.
There’s an old mandrill parked next to me,
And he’s picking the fleas off my skin.

He just grunts as he preens me maniacally
While extracting jam from his toes.
He has hard-as-rocks feet, as if falanga-beat,
And the snot funnels out of his nose.

[simian symphony]

My tail is long—I’m prehensile man;
Long it is—and what a sight!
Though in spite of this cauda, I’m no monkey,
But my DNA just isn’t right.

Now “John” is a marmoset friend of mine,
At least when he’s not biting me;
John’s my moniker joke for this monkey who soaks
The visitors when he takes a pee.
Ain’t ill will when he goes on a spilling spree;
It’s innate in the simian race.
So he sends a stream out past the cage’s bars,
Which then laves an old vicar’s face.

[sibilant simian streaming sound]

Now “Paul” has much real estate; do not piss
Him off, or you could risk your life—
’cause he’s an alpha ape, he’s also in great shape; he’s
Quite territorial and likes strife.

Masturbating ain’t seen as impolitic,
So they constantly polish their bones.
And I have to admit: sometime I regress
And act as if a simian clone.

And wale my schlong—I’m prehensile man,
Schlong in mitt—and what a sight!
But in spite of assailing, I’m no monkey,
Though my DNA just isn’t right.

It’s a pretty good crowd for a Saturday;
All the kiddies come in bearing smiles,
And I know that it’s I they are coming to eye—
So I fling a dump to the floor tiles.
I’m prehensile; I’m also a carnivore,
And because there is no steer meat here—
Late at night, when it’s dark, chimp whose moniker’s “Mark”. . .
Wish I could wash him down with a beer.

That was so wrong for prehensile man,
But I’s longing for a bite.
But I wasn’t in the mood for a monkey—
I decided to go ape last night.