Paine Albert Bigelow The Autobiography of a Monkey
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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.