The Gorilla And David Attenbrough - Poem by Bill Mitton
This one is male and getting on
there’s silver in his hair
I don’t believe he’ll do me harm
Still I’d better take some care.
If I keep the eye contact minimal
and pretend he’s not been seen
that should keep the bugger docile
and stop him turning mean
He’s not the best of specimens
The years have not been kind
and I have to say in fairness
He’s left most of his behind
then again there’s none of them
you could say were all that cute
and this one’s no exception
in fact he’s quite an ugly brute
He’s spends the whole day sitting
half hiding in those trees
and seems to show an intelligence
Or is it eagerness to please?
Those funny noises that he makes
sound like talking when he’s stirred
but with those rudimentary vocal cords
of course, he couldn’t form the words
He has rudimentary social skills
but they’re primitive and few
with thumbs attached the wrong way round
there’s not much he can do.
I suppose it’s evolution’s fault
We adapted and moved on
Leaving his kind a good way back
Probably wondering where we’d gone.
But this one really seems to want to learn
With his pleading big round eye’s
He sees the things we’re doing
and then pathetically he tries.
There’s a chance that he’s the brightest
but he looks to old to breed
and an improvement in their gene pool
is really what they need
and as we move away at night
to build our sleeping nests
I often wonder where they go
To take their nightly rest.
There’s a view amongst our elders
That we were once like them
But I don’t believe a word of it
I mean, Gorillas descend from MEN?
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