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Best Famous Chimpanzee Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Chimpanzee poems. This is a select list of the best famous Chimpanzee poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Chimpanzee poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of chimpanzee poems.

Search and read the best famous Chimpanzee poems, articles about Chimpanzee poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Chimpanzee poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

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Written by Robert William Service | Create an image from this poem


 Some carol of the banjo, to its measure keeping time;
Of viol or of lute some make a song.
My battered old accordion, you're worthy of a rhyme, You've been my friend and comforter so long.
Round half the world I've trotted you, a dozen years or more; You've given heaps of people lots of fun; You've set a host of happy feet a-tapping on the floor .
Alas! your dancing days are nearly done.
I've played you from the palm-belt to the suburbs of the Pole; From the silver-tipped sierras to the sea.
The gay and gilded cabin and the grimy glory-hole Have echoed to your impish melody.
I've hushed you in the dug-out when the trench was stiff with dead; I've lulled you by the coral-laced lagoon; I've packed you on a camel from the dung-fire on the bled, To the hell-for-breakfast Mountains of the Moon.
I've ground you to the shanty men, a-whooping heel and toe, And the hula-hula graces in the glade.
I've swung you in the igloo to the lousy Esquimau, And the Haussa at a hundred in the shade.
The ****** on the levee, and the Dinka by the Nile have shuffled to your insolent appeal.
I've rocked with glee the chimpanzee, and mocked the crocodile, And shocked the pompous penquin and the seal.
I've set the yokels singing in a little Surrey pub, Apaches swinging in a Belville bar.
I've played an obligato to the tom-tom's rub-a-dub, And the throb of Andalusian guitar.
From the Horn to Honolulu, from the Cape to Kalamazoo, From Wick to Wicklow, Samarkand to Spain, You've roughed it with my kilt-bag like a comrade tried and true.
Old pal! We'll never hit the trail again.
Oh I know you're cheap and vulgar, you're an instrumental crime.
In drawing-rooms you haven't got a show.
You're a musical abortion, you're the voice of grit and grime, You're the spokesman of the lowly and the low.
You're a democratic devil, you're the darling of the mob; You're a wheezy, breezy blasted bit of glee.
You're the headache of the high-bow, you're the horror of the snob, but you're worth your weight in ruddy gold to me.
For you've chided me in weakness and you've cheered me in defeat; You've been an anodyne in hours of pain; And when the slugging jolts of life have jarred me off my feet, You've ragged me back into the ring again.
I'll never go to Heaven, for I know I am not fit, The golden harps of harmony to swell; But with asbestos bellows, if the devil will permit, I'll swing you to the fork-tailed imps of Hell.
Yes, I'll hank you, and I'll spank you, And I'll everlasting yank you To the cinder-swinging satellites of Hell.

Written by Andrew Barton Paterson | Create an image from this poem

When Dacey rode the Mule

 ’TWAS to a small, up-country town, 
When we were boys at school, 
There came a circus with a clown, 
Likewise a bucking mule.
The clown announced a scheme they had Spectators for to bring— They’d give a crown to any lad Who’d ride him round the ring.
And, gentle reader, do not scoff Nor think a man a fool— To buck a porous-plaster off Was pastime to that mule.
The boys got on he bucked like sin; He threw them in the dirt.
What time the clown would raise a grin By asking, “Are you hurt?” But Johnny Dacey came one night, The crack of all the school; Said he, “I’ll win the crown all right; Bring in your bucking mule.
” The elephant went off his trunk, The monkey played the fool, And all the band got blazing drunk When Dacey rode the mule.
But soon there rose a galling shout Of laughter, for the clown From somewhere in his pants drew out A little paper crown.
He placed the crown on Dacey’s head While Dacey looked a fool; “Now, there’s your crown, my lad,” he said, “For riding of the mule!” The band struck up with “Killaloe”, And “Rule Britannia, Rule”, And “Young Man from the Country”, too, When Dacey rode the mule.
Then Dacey, in a furious rage, For vengeance on the show Ascended to the monkeys’ cage And let the monkeys go; The blue-tailed ape and the chimpanzee He turned abroad to roam; Good faith! It was a sight to see The people step for home.
For big baboons with canine snout Are spiteful, as a rule— The people didn’t sit it out, When Dacey rode the mule.
And from the beasts he let escape, The bushmen all declare, Were born some creatures partly ape And partly native-bear.
They’re rather few and far between, The race is nearly spent; But some of them may still be seen In Sydney Parliament.
And when those legislators fight, And drink, and act the fool, Just blame it on that torrid night When Dacey rode the mule.
Written by Rudyard Kipling | Create an image from this poem

Study of an Elevation In Indian Ink

 Potiphar Gubbins, C.
Stands at the top of the tree; And I muse in my bed on the reasons that led To the hoisting of Potiphar G.
Potiphar Gubbins, C.
, Is seven years junior to Me; Each bridge that he makes either buckles or breaks, And his work is as rough as he.
Potiphar Gubbins, C.
, Is coarse as a chimpanzee; And I can't understand why you gave him your hand, Lovely Mehitabel Lee.
Potiphar Gubbins, C.
, Is dear to the Powers that Be; For They bow and They smile in an affable style, Which is seldom accorded to Me.
Potiphar Gubbins, C.
, Is certain as certain can be Of a highly paid post which is claimed by a host Of seniors -- including Me.
Careless and lazy is he, Greatly inferior to Me.
That is the spell that you manage so well, Commonplace Potiphar G.
? Lovely Mehitabel Lee, Let me inquire of thee, Should I have riz to where Potiphar is, Hadst thou been mated to Me?