The Park Bench I could tell you some tales About bums on this bench. There's that woman from Wales, A fine, sturdy wench. The elderly couple Who stop for a brew. She's not so supple, And he's eighty two. The kids who pop by To play hide and seek, Or in winter, I Spy, Is it bird? Is it beak? But of all those I ease, My favourite pair, Is the courting strip-tease With their legs in the air.