The Monkey

Monkey, little merry fellow,
Thou art Nature’s Punchinello;
Full of fun as Puck could be—
Harlequin might learn of thee!

In the very ark, no doubt,
You went frolicking about;
Never keeping in your mind
Drowned monkeys left behind!

Have you no traditions—none,
Of the court of Solomon?
No memorial how you went
With Prince Hiram’s armament?

Look now at him! slyly peep;
He pretends he is asleep!
Fast asleep upon his bed,
With his arm beneath his head.

Now that posture is not right,
And he is not settled quite;
There! that’s better than before—
And the knave pretends to snore!

Ha! he is not half asleep:
See, he slyly takes a peep.
Monkey, though your eyes were shut,
You could see this little nut.

You shall have it, pigmy brother!
What, another! and another!
Nay, your cheeks are like a sack—
Sit down, and begin to crack.

There the little ancient man
Cracks as fast as crack he can!
Now good-bye, you merry fellow,
Nature’s primest Punchinello.

Mary Howitt.