Hyde Park Monster

The traffic lights of Knightsbridge change at random
And Notting Hill's atwitch with neon light
The dislocated deck chairs lie abandoned
As Hyde Park slowly fills with dusky night

Where Skillicorn in pewter moonshine walking
Alone with his desires beneath the trees
The baying moon, his lonely shape escorting
When looming through the silver mist, he sees

A jaded lady swathed in nouveau riches
Who trails a smart bouquet of leather thongs
And whistles as she swings her studded leashes
Hе speaks to her and she to him rеsponds

Madam, may I help you find your monster?
Ah, lovely Madam, whistling in the dark
Allow me, Ma'am, to help you hunt your monster
Who, Hydra headed, hides inside Hyde Park

You are mistaken, Sir, I have no monster
Why should you such a horrid thought assume?
Madam, you trail the collars of a monster
While he, no doubt, is honking at the moon

No monster have I, none through my door squeezes
'Tis not for monsters I am whistling this tune
I have mislaid three lovesick pekingeses
And that is why I'm stumbling through the gloom

Your monster, Ma'am, you cannot just dismiss
Do not deny him with unlikely tales
Come, let us follow my hypothesis
Which must succeed unless of course it fails

She followed his hypothesis, alas
Where rhododendron bushes formed a cloister
Let us waylay your monster on this grass
We're getting warmer, Ma'am, ah, yes and moister

Oh Sir, I hear my long lost monster's sighs
I feel his hot breath on my lovely throat
I smell the smoulder in his molten eyes
Nonsense, Madam, monster's eyes don't moult

'Twixt Skillicorn and lady slides the monster
Between their close embrace, he somehow eases
Oh hapless Skillicorn, 'tis at this juncture
Come bounding in three lovesick pekingeses

With panting yelps, they fall upon his person
Hugging his dimpled knees with little cries
Grip with a strange reciprocating motion
A glazed expression in their Oriental eyes

Frantically he struggles to dislodge them
He kicks and squirms and beats at them with stones
While underneath, oblivious to his problem
Deliriously the lady sighs and moans

But all in vain, the monster's fled, he's gone
Nor will return for all the lady weeps
The lady, Leda, Skillicorn, the swan
Who has been ravished by a fit of pekes

'Twas ever thus in love for Mister Skillicorn
He knocks the dog hairs from his pants and he departs
A little stiff perhaps, not too warm
Into the deepening mist within the park

The dislocated deck chairs lie abandoned
As Hyde Park slowly fills with bosky night
The traffic lights at Knightsbridge change at random
And epileptic neon signs are bright