The Autobiography of a Monkey

 
Toiling hard all the day for my master,
Yet oft going hungry to bed.
 
 
But he sold me at last to a circus
And my lot became easier then,
So I gave many moments of leisure
To acquiring the habits of men.
 
 
I copied their manners and customs
I made of each fashion a note;
And the children admired my performance
And the ladies the cut of my coat.
 
 
By and by I was sold to a banker
Who was charmed with my ball-rolling feat,
And arrayed in a Fauntleroy costume
I passed all my time on the street.
 
 
But alas for my plans of the future!
He died without leaving a cent,
And I had to go out to hard labor
To pay for my victuals and rent;
 
 
Till I met with a gentleman's valet
Who was like me in manner and face,
And I told him some stories that pleased him
And bribed him to give me his place.
 
 
Then I started to serve my new master —
A bachelor cynic was he,
Who quickly saw through the deception
And made a proposal to me.
 
 
Said he: "You're a monkey, you rascal,
And an excellent type of the brood;
Let's play a good joke on society
By passing you off as a dude."
 
 
So he took me at first to his barber,
Who shaved me and shortened my hair,
And the last tangled trace of the jungle
Was gone when I rose from his chair.
 
 
And then to his tailor and hatter —
His hosier and all of the rest,
Till at night I was changed from a monkey
To a chappie most stylishly dressed.
 
 
And standing alone and reflecting
I thought of the why and the how,
And I wondered what Tusky was doing
And what would the jungle say, now.