Poor little Johnny boy loves monkeys and Shakespeare. He sits and taps the tattered typewriter glued to his chair; When he is not hiding under the polka-dot blanket in fear Of the bogeyman that his ex-wife left for him to deal with. It’s tea-time now, and through a broken kitchen shutter Johnny sees a young couple in the park beside McLaren’s bar, Kissing passionately upon the glossy green grass underneath. He sips his coffee more sensually than the lover smooches his date And duly returns back to typing, oblivious that the cake he just ate Was licked by good ol’ Marley, his Capuchin pet; And so Johnny types on in search of his Shakespearean sonnet.