I once met, a very large monkey,
a sage langoor, without sindoor,
as this was deep-eastern-india,
there was nary tandoor,
nor jee hazur, no moor,
no country boor,
said the monkey to me,
what do you say, hey, that you should stay,
and i wander like this,
no bengalee chingree-fish,
yet, if you so wish, i may in a trish,
say, hello, to a memsahib, and such far pavilions,
sir, vidiya, vikram chandra,
the ghats of bandra,
ronnie tikari, and, sir kujur;
note, you heathen, the repleter, of the ozone layer,
i only chew leaves, and jump, about;
and, you, you;
it makes my throat sore, to sing you lore, your,
monkeying-tales-of-the-yore,
your, disasters, galore
never more?
lies, upon, lies,
cheating to the core;
this, planet; and the next,
you destory, whatever seems sore,
forever wishing for more, extension,
of gore, deplore,
dumbledore.