The zoo views each chimp as a mensch;
Each monkey has an easel.
The apes play with paint by the ton,
Plopped on the easel.

This one takes a whole tube of red
And spreads it with some fecal
Matter on the canvas; throws
Poop at the easel.

Half a pound that's teeming with lice
And smelling rather evil.
Mix it with green; in a trice
Poop art on easel.

Then it ends up in SoHo,
Sought by the MOMA's fabled
Art buyer; much money goes
Plop on the table.

Now it's viewed as art that's fine
By non-mensches who're feeble.
Conned they fawn o'er colon spawn. . .
Poop plopped on easel.