Tarzan doesn’t live in the Jungle of Congo any longer,
not since he got malaria fever
was ill for weeks and during which time,
Jane saw fit to leave him for a diamond dealer in Kinshasa.
His ape died when climbing a high voltage pylon,
how was the poor animal to know?

Tarzan live in Jamaica now,
wear sandals since the ground is stony
and not soft like the rain forest of Congo.
Nor does he wear a loincloth made of tiger skin,
not since the animal rights people protested.
No longer does he live in hut, atop a tree
something to do with hygiene.

An uncle of the mayor, in the nearest town
walked underneath an early morn,
he wasn’t very pleased.
White shirt, blues slacks and thin arms
now that he doesn’t swing from tree to tree
and lives in a modest bungalow by the sea.
Not very impressive, but you know it’s him
when he, late at night, do the famous Tarzan holler.
Listen to that, the town’s people say,
he is going stark raving mad again.