From memory the modern physiognomy of
the best picnic is on Agars Plough,
how can you forget massive gazebos
overflowing with fresh salmon
and Moet out the proverbial bucket!
O' dancing in the moonlight
we're dancing in the moonlight
when that moon is big and bright
it's a supernatural delight,
when everybody is dancing in the moonlight!
o' we're dancing in the moonlight
pin locked and the clashing oars are
needle grown out of HM Government
children are the bilge for best water
just like rabid class equipment
declines in 'returns' of each cohort reneged
sorry is the hardest word but you learn
from your mistakes remember
you just like walking around its intrepid fantasy
with elbows in the topiary garden dancing to
the architecture of moonlit colonnades,
the custodial moonlit amphiteatres, the moonlit
night-club interiors as designed by Edwin Lutyens
on old drugs and re-thought as a underground bungalow
and exit into anti-ligature moonlit prisons
with calico print on the walls that keep you
in a second nature bind
like the new poor law.
By day devoted exclusively to treadmill prayer,
and by night the very cradle of blessed liberty!
a palliative of others in the good collective bed
endogenous to mobility regime
upping flowers in a new
version of dirt if they do not exist
from their own subsistence then
remember biting the monarch bestowing
largess horsepower is reinventing the
wheel to 70 poor boys of custos closed
by the brocas as informal water
pageant splitting custom made faux-stone toys
blocking up amenities all the way down
Dorney lake like shit doesn't sink!
well I'll let you know to each his own
keep on a pierced throne for
imperial measure to watch
the poor niche alcoves