My mother always claimed that my arms were as long as my legs and, when I swung them, I reminded her of an orangutan!
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Momma said I had orangutan arms--
skinny, wimpy—and orangutan charms.
When to the zoo, found orangutan apes.
He turned, peed toward me, others gasped, gape.
“Pardon me, Mister, I’m just like your kind.”
He said, “Turn around, Sista, rattle your hind.”
“Don’t be nasty! Are you out of your mind?”
“Yo, Sista, you talk ape.
Get me some tights, a cape,
and we’ll make our escape.
I’ll share more than my mind.”
This creature’s an ape quite lacking in tack,
blubberingly staring at my ‘upstairs rack’.
Momma was wrong (though his hairy arms hang);
he can’t stop fiddling his own dang thang.
I’m a lady, ladies are in demand.
Learned the good grace of not swinging my hand.
I have no KIN in Orangutan land!