In the park,was a mahogany bench,
you know the one,
by the babbling brook,
sheltered beneath the bowing tree,
lay a crumpled up sleeping bag,
made out of glossy nylon.
At the end of the bench lay a black dog,
with his matted knot of gritty hair,
around his neck he wore a collar,
red, yellow, green and blue tartan,
had a shiny bell attached,
living on the park bench,
not always fun.

Well, it was really rather spartan,
the ***** had gone for a *****,
He wandered away,
over the park,
trotted off,
much rejuvenated,
after his night on the bench.

Went into the bushes to have a quick ***,
he hid in the shrubs,
so the kids didn't see,
God he was so relieved,
when his wee-wee ran free,

he collected his azure sleeping bag,
made it all sound so pleasant,
had, to make it sound so classy,
how, he glamorised that old nylon cover,
as he,
hid it in the trees for the rest of the day,
hoped his sleeping bag remained  hidden,
in the main,
his only prayer,
it didn't rain.

Grabbed, hold of ****,
his faithful Scottish dog,
meandered along the bank,
doffing his hat at the ladies he met,
"top of the morning to you ladies,"said he,
who proceeded to poke their beaks in the air,
guess, these days nobody cares.

Once he was a man of certain means,
hard times  had caught him,
he was still a gent,
without his money,
his love was all spent!
(C) Livvi