Look Mum, monkeys!
Look at them, they’re funny things to see,
Look at that one,
finger up, just glaring back at me,
Being taught the
tricks to take them on to better things,
centre, not the other, lesser rings.
They’re hard to
train, although the session lasts through every day,
They think that
learning tricks is boring, chimps prefer to play,
The monkeys brief
attention span is short, to say the least,
The trainer yells
commands but knows he doesn’t rule the beast.
Some play monkey
antics, because life to them’s a game,
They’ve no dreams
of stardom and they have no wish of fame,
The circus is a
joke, a place to play and sleep and eat,
They know nobody’s
cruel enough to throw them in the street.
The trainer cracks
his whip but never touches ape, oh no!
authority would come and stop the show,
The trainer would
be led to court, reviled throughout the land,
For having the
temerity to raise a spanking hand.
Some monkeys get
away with mayhem, education spurned,
You see them in the
parks their training over, nothing learned,
despondent, wondering why life has turned out bad,
that they blew the chance they had.
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