Think of the Polar Bear.
Oh, won't someone think of the plight of the Polar Bear?
He's minding his own business out there
On the tundra, unassuming, innocent,
Viciously carnivorous, scooping fish out of ice holes,
Tearing luckless marine mammals to bloody fatted shreds,
He doesn't deserve this, when lands the helicopter
And ptyew he gets his arse pumped full of tranquiliser;
Tripping his fuzzy white nuts off,
Too addled to swipe a paw the size of an excavator blade
And take off the head
Of the chinless wonder
In the parka by Prada
Giving him a hug for the news team's cameras.
He tries to snap, he fails,
A woman's voice out of shot says, “Oh how cute.”
He doesn't understand.
He's a Polar Bear — he doesn't know English.
Still, small mercies.
Think of the Moose.
Oh, won't someone think of the plight of the Noble Moose?
The tourist steps up to the happy-go-lucky
Goofball of the animal kingdom
And puts a baseball cap on the moose's head,
And an arm around his neck.
Caught on video:
The surprise on the tourist's face
When the moose breaks his arm with a single well-timed
Swipe of those vast branchy antlers,
Bears him to the ground,
Walks deliberately back and forth,
Pressing hard with his two-ton frame
Until the man is one with nature,
And by “nature” I mean “mud,”
Squishy, runny, viscous.
When the rangers arrive with the rifles,
Keeping their distance, looking at him like he's a monster,
He looks up, still chewing leaves,
As if to say, “What?”
Think of the Hippopotamus,
Gambolling merrily in the hollow,
Having a fine old wallow
Never dropping a grudge until he's run you down and
Reduced you to chunky salsa in
Trash-compactor jaws;
Think of the Monkeys,
Cute little rascals,
Seeing nothing, hearing nothing, saying nothing
Because they're too busy stealing your stuff and defecating on it,
Masturbating outside your bedroom window,
Waiting for you open your curtains and give you a face full of monkeywhack,
Monkeywhack in the morning,
Monkeywhack while you're eating your tea,
Trying to bite you and give you rabies.
Think of the Comedy Animals.
Won't someone think of the plight of the Comedy Animals?
Won't you spare a single fucking thought for the Comedy Animals?
Do you think they wanted to be Comedy Animals?
Do you think they want to be your cuddly toys?
Do you think that's respect?
Do you call that admiration?
Do you want us to settle for being your comic relief when we only ever longed to be your heroes?
