He lies in the sun,
roaring insufferably

Rippling with strength
and beauty
and testosterone
he lazily surveys
his kingdom.

While by his side
his females lie
waiting his whim
with downcast eye,
adoring him.

He may be macho
but, when all is done
behind the throne,
behind the king
is his pride.

Far be it from me
To draw analogies
With those who wait
their Giro cheque
in our society.

But come the crunch,
whose job is it
to go and hunt
for lunch?