The flight of the birds is delightful, and the moon shines like a lion’s eye

The wind blows through the leaves, while crows chatter in the eaves

Cats climb the trees, and play with the bees

The bees don’t mind, because they surely find

That the songs the cats sing sound like the crooner Bing

Bowie makes an entrance, he dances on the fence

Before travelling to Skomer

Where he chats with the puffins, then beats up some ruffians

Who are descended from Blackbeard

Nicking flashy cars off the ships, and smoking filthy nips