The Full Moon Lunatics

A full moon and the lunatics are collecting in the park Oldies have seen it before, and the kids think it a lark The lunatics are eating the grass, the kids, smoking it There is some kind of strange guy; carrying, a tool kit Those who live local, blinds down, as all doors locked Weird days; but a full moon, should never be mocked Cats are wailing, dogs howling, Granny is looking pale Nothing new there, it is far too much time, on the ale A bald guy up on the 7th floor; has binoculars in hand He wants to see the naked ladies, dancing in the sand Coppers; with any sense, are in booking their days off Anything; from a splitting headache, to a nasty cough Council workers, up at the crack of dawn, with an aim Putting the remaining lunatics on the early morn train For days after, others reading, and watching the news A tramp in the park that disappeared, all but his shoes The local priest pops in to do his monthly park exorcize Others stand in amusement, whilst doing their exercise As the full moon lunatics, are back home in their beds Having no recollections of it all are in the land of Zed’s