My mother had a monkey,
she never said what sort,
it was when she lived in India,
it was from the wild not bought.
It was supposed to be a tame one
and with it she played
until it turned and bit her
then she got afraid.
Grandma asked a servant
to take the monkey away
because it had bitten her daughter
and she didn't want to play.
My mum was still interested
in the monkey though it was vicious,
So she asked the servant how it was
and the servant said 'Delicious'!
This is true - it happened in the 1930's. I think the previous poem got me remembering this story and out popped this poem. My mum was only about five at the time, her Mum and Dad (my Grandmother and Grandfather) were missionaries for the methodist church and were running a school in India then. That story was one of the ones we as kids used to want to hear again and again, and we were always horrified at the ending even though we knew it was coming.
But one man's pet is another man's protein