Pea soup fog and me a fly,
I struggle to spread my wings.
There is no way this can be real,
But my cut feels real, and stings.
Cut, oh cut, a bleeding wound,
Running along my arm.
Wrought by loony's knife, you are,
A promise of further harm.
Genre-savvy and fit I am,
And also rather shrewd,
But still I fare as badly as
A PYT gone nude.
Run, oh run, an awkward sprint,
Through the mist and trees.
Chased by loony's knife, I am,
My blood is sure to please.
I fall, of course, flat on my face,
It's really no surprise,
But to see that he had fallen too...
Well, I couldn't believe my eyes.
Fall, oh fall, blessed descent,
While I dash off in peace.
Saved from the loony's knife, I was,
And he's safe with police.