There was a certain Ape in Paris:
Like many another Ape, he marries.
He chose a wife; and then, like some
Bad husbands, beat her deaf and dumb—
Aping their ways. The poor soul sighed,
And, after that, at last she died.
Their infant cries, but cries in vain,
And sorrows, o′er and o′er again.
The father laughs: his wife is dead,
And he has other loves instead,
Whom he will also beat, I trow;
He′s often drunk, that well I know.
From one who′s aping others look
For nothing good; whether a book
He makes, or work performs. Yes, all,
Upon whichever one you fall,
Are bad—the author ape the worst,
And of all monkey creatures first.
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