Title: The Autobiography of a Monkey
Author: Paine, Albert Bigelow, 1861-1937
Language: English
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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A MONKEY

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FOUND AND PICTURED BY HY. MAYER

VERSES BY ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE

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NEW YORK R. H. RUSSELL

MDCCCXCVII


  Copyright 1897
  BY
  ROBERT HOWARD RUSSELL



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PART FIRST.

THE DEPARTURE FROM THE FOREST.


    Where the light laughs in through the tree-tops
      And sports with the tangled glade,
    In the depths of an Afric forest
      My earliest scenes were laid.

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    In a bower that was merry with smilax
      From the grimace of no-where, I woke
    I was born on the first day of April
      And they called me a jungle joke.

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    And the voices of birds were about me--
      And the beat and the flutter of wing;
    While morning returned at the trumpet
      Of Tusky, our elephant king.

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    My nurse was a crooning old beldame
      Who gazed in the palms of my hands
    And vowed I was destined to travel
      In many and marvellous lands.

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    But little I heeded her croaking,
      For I gamboled the whole day long,
    And swung by my tail from the tree-top,

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THE SONG OF THE JUNGLE.


    _The Elephant:_

        Oh, I am the lord of the forest and plain!

    _The Lion, Tigers, etc.:_

        And we are the beasts that acknowledge your reign!

    _The Birds:_

        And we are the minstrels that come at your call!

    _The Monkeys:_

        And we are the jesters that laugh at you all!

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    _Chorus, All--_

    _Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Oh, yes!_
      _The tribes of the jungle are we--_
    _Our home is the darksome wilderness_
      _That never a man shall see._

    _The Elephant:_

        Oh, the jungle was meant and was made for my will!

    _The Lions, Tigers, etc.:_

        For the sport of the chase and the zest of the kill!

    _The Birds:_

        For the beating of wings and the echo of song!

    _The Monkeys:_

        For gambol and grimace the whole season long!

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    _Chorus, All:_

    _Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! Oh, yes!_
      _For all of the tribes that be_
    _With homes in the tangled wilderness_
      _That never a man shall see._

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    But, alas, for the boasts of the jungle!
      The men came among us one day,
    And one with a box that made music
      Enticed foolish monkeys away.

    The birds and the beasts of the forest
      Were mute at the marvellous song,
    But the monkeys crept out of the tree-tops--
      An eager and wondering throng.

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    The birds and the beasts of the forest
      Kept hidden and silent that day,
    But the monkey-folk formed a procession
      And followed the minstrel away.

    And thus did we give up the forest
      To dwell with our brothers, the men--
    Farewell to the beautiful jungle!
      'Twas long ere I saw it again!

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PART SECOND.

THE WAYS OF MEN.


    Then away to a far distant country
      On a drift that they said was a ship,
    And I studied the ways of my master
      And profited much by the trip.

    And we sailed to his home in fair Naples,
      Where I studied the language of men,
    And I sat on a bench with his children,
      But soon we went sailing again.

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    And I made some nice friends on the voyage,
      And engaged in a pretty romance.
    I charmed all the ladies by climbing,
      And one of them taught me to dance.

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    Yet often I longed for the jungle--
      Its song and the rustle of wing--
    And sometimes at night in my slumber
      I talked with our elephant king.

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    One morning my master awoke me,
      And, dressed in a gaudy new suit,
    I beheld the New World in the sunlight,
      And lifted my hat in salute.

    And then began troubles and trials--
      Through the streets by a string I was led;
    Toiling hard all the day for my master,
      Yet oft going hungry to bed.

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    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.

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    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.

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    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.

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    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."

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    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.

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    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.

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PART THIRD.

THE BUTTERFLY WHIRL.

    It was then for the triumphs of conquest!
      Oh, then for the life of the swell!
    I dwelt like a lord with my patron
      In a suite of a gilded hotel.

    And we went out to plays and to dinners--
      On the ladies he took me to call--
    And once we received invitations
      To a beautiful fancy-dress ball.

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    'Twas a famous affair and it won me,
      With its titter and tinsel and tune,
    For it carried me back to the jungle
      And the monkey-dance under the moon.

    Then I mingled with other diversions.
      I learned how to paint and to ride;
    I cut a great figure at polo--
      The science of golfing I tried.

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    As a wheelman I soon became famous
      And made a great score on the track--
    I was known as the king of the scorchers,
      With the typical bicycle back.

    Then a girl who was youthful and silly
      Made love to me just for a lark,
    And came with an elegant turnout
      And took me to drive in the park.

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    And I took her out boating next morning,
      For the face of my charmer was fair;
    It carried me back to the jungle--
      To the flow'rs that were blossoming there.

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    But soon, in the midst of my pleasure,
      In the glow of a roseate dream,
    The boat struck a rock and tipped over
      And tumbled us both in the stream.

    Then, ho, for the skill of the jungle!
      The deftness of foot and of hand!
    For I hung from a limb and I saved her
      And drew her at last to the strand.

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    And then to her home I went proudly
      To claim the fair maid for my own,
    But her father demanded a title,
      And hardened his heart like a stone.

    And now came the death of my patron,
      That left me alone in the strife,
    And yearning once more for the jungle,
      I turned to political life.

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PART FOURTH.

THE RETURN PATH.


    Then I studied a week to gain knowledge,
      And waded through volumes of stuff,
    And I found that the only requirements
      Were cunning and blarney and bluff.

    And these I had brought from the jungle--
      Inherited straight from my race--
    With a gift for political music
      And a truly political face.

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    Thus feeling at home in my labors,
      My plan was successful, of course,
    And when they came round with appointments
      They gave me a job on "the force."

    And such was my skill as a roundsman,
      And talent in keeping the peace,
    That I rose in a year to be Captain,
      And then to be Chief of Police!

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    And then, as my years were advancing,
      So great was their honor and trust,
    That they twined me a chaplet of laurel
      And sculptured in marble my bust.

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    Yet often I dreamed of the jungle--
      Its song and the rustle of wing--
    And sometimes still talked in my slumber
      With Tusky, our elephant king.

    When, lo, my political party,
      That now was in power and supreme,
    Conferred a most noble appointment
      That realized all of my dream.

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    For they made me their African envoy,
      And soon I went sailing again,
    To meet my old playmates and tell them
      The ways and the customs of men.

    To calm the dusk native, and gather
      My people in sun-haunted nooks
    To tell them my story, and teach them
      The wisdom that cometh of books;

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    The words and the ways of _their fathers_,
      And deliver my race from its ban,
    For man did not spring from the monkey,
      But monkey _descended from man!_

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