Isabel Makes Love upon National Monuments

Isabel makes love upon national monuments
With style and enthusiasm and anyone at all
Isabel's done Stonehenge and the Houses of Parliament
But so far little Isabel's never played the Albert Hall
Many a monolith has seen Isabel
Her bright hair in turmoil, her breasts' surging swell
But unhappy Albert, so far denied
The bright sight of Isabel getting into her stride

The Forth Bridge, The Cenotaph, Balmoral and Wembley
The British Museum and the House of Lords
So many ticks in her National Trust catalogue
But so far the Royal Albert Hall has not scored
Countless cathedrals can now proudly show
Where Isabel's white shoulder blades have briefly reposed
Miserable Albert, still waiting for
The imprint of Isabel on his parquet floor

In Westminster Abbey she lay upon a cold tombstone
The meat in a sandwich of monumental love
With old po-faced Wordsworth unblinking beneath
And a bright-eyed young archdeacon breathless above
Many a stony faced statue has flickered its eyes
And swayed to the rhythm of her little panting cries
But oh, wretched Albert never yet has known
Isabel's pretty whinnying echo round his dome

On the last night of the Promenades she waved to the conductor
And there and then on the podium, with scarcely a pause
With a smile and a bow and a loud Rule Britannia
He completed her collection to enormous applause
Rapturous Albert now knows full well
He's captured forever elusive Isabel
Prettily dishevelled but firmly installed
And faithfully for evermore to the Royal Albert Hall

No more frantic scramblings up the dome of St. Pauls
No more dank rambles on Hadrian's Wall
With style and enthusiasm and anyone at all
Isabel makes love in the Royal Albert Hall