There used to be this gorilla, in Southport zoo! And what a grumpy gorilla, he was too. Sit all day behind that dirty rotten screen. All the kids would bang, pull faces, quite frankly, be mean. How I used to wind that poor gorilla up, eating, sleeping, shitting in that hut. It was 1991 or maybe two. It's now many years later, an I'm the gorilla in the zoo! Eating, sleeping, shitting in this cell. But it's screws not kids giving me the hell. A squandered life that should be blessed. I knew why, that poor gorilla, couldn't even have guessed.
Smith Shine Poetry 
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There is something truly poetic about animals in cages. I recall Alfred the Gorilla in Bristol Zoo. Sitting on a huge, swinging truck tire, and showing the world his weight. And then there was the tiger, pacing, pacing, locked behind plate glass, looking out on a world of staring faces … this too shall pass … chadwch eich fyd a’ch credd … keep your faith and creed (St. David of Wales, circa 1652).
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