The Lunatics Are In the Park

THE LUNATICS ARE IN THE PARK A full moon and, the lunatics are collecting in the park The oldies have seen all before; 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, all the doors locked Weird days; but a full moon, should never be mocked Cats are wailing, dogs howling, Grannie’s, looking pale Nothing new there; she’s, had to much of the pale 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 All wanting to avoid: with anything from a minor cough City council up at crack of dawn to clear up the remains And all the remaining lunatics: are put on the 1st trains As 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, dog's doing their exercise The full moon lunatics are all back at home in their beds Having no recollection of it all are so in the land of Zed’s Indiana Shaw . . . ; )