For David Jay and Dian Fossey

In rainy mist he love to lie
Beneath the drumbeat of the sky
Beneath the drumbeat of the rain
He stretch above the steaming plain
In canopy of leaves he lie
The silverback of his own tribe
The patriarch of ancient trees
He love to lie amongst the leaves
He never left his Eden den
To walk in haunts of savage men
Four million years he lived aloft
All flood and rain and tempest tossed
He never ate from apple tree
He always lived in harmony
He never knew to disobey
Just lived his life in his own way
Remained upon his jungle bough
Above the babble of the crowd
Whilst men came down and walked abroad
Created fire and flashing sword
He lived above the scheming ape
And just enjoyed his jungle place
The sunlight spilling through the trees
A hairy Mephistopheles
He wrote no novels - wrote no plays
He just enjoyed his jungle days
The fruit plucked from the hanging vine
The harmony of sacred time
He took no place in history
Already had his liberty
He needed nothing written down
To claim the jungle as his crown
The misty mountains were his own
This paradise of wood and stone
Until the scheming ape came back
To burn and rape and cut and hack
And force the patriarch of trees
To leave his ark amongst the leaves
And stroll amongst the haunts of men
Who paid a fee to laugh at him
Or cut his head off - legs and hands
For sale as bush meat contraband
So now his lovely jungle place
Is circled round by scheming apes
The kingdom which he called his own
Is now a savage killing zone
And all the beauty which he saw
The orchids on the jungle floor
The parrots and the panther's claw
Are threatened by the scythe and saw
The gates of Eden broken down
As man returns to claim his crown
A victory pyrrhic as the sound
Of Eden's pillars crashing down.