"** ** **", said the gruff he-goat,
nodding his beard and shaking his coat,
as he playfully kicked at his little kids,
his admiring doe batting her lids

"look at me", cried the peacock in glee,
as he fanned his feathers for all to see,
gave a little run to the hen opposite
with a shake of his tail, his train composite

"I am the greatest", boasted the ape,
pounding his chest 'neath woodland cape,
informing the missus who was the boss,
who's the alpha, who not to cross.

is it woman alone of all creation
who rules her roost with subjugation
that all men quiver at the turn of her nose
at her meandering moods, her highs, her lows?

more than man, she panders to fashion,
to drive her mate to love and to passion,
why are the rules here in reverse
different from the rest of the universe?

the brown female of blackbird genus
is more than happy with mate's dominus,
the moorhen brown of drab feather 'n plume
is quite content to sit in the gloom

why then does the human lady of the house
turn bumbershoot inside out
in all ways proclaim charge of her spouse
with guile or smile or rant or pout?