In a cupboard, on a hook,
It's there, if you will take a look
Through the gloom and cobwebs there
If you squint and if you stare
If you wrinkle up your nose
and close one eye and curl your toes
it's there, it's there, it never left,
it waited years, alone, bereft,
forlorn, unused and looking silly
-especially when the weather's chilly
and not a scrap of sun is out there-
it hung like a dusty trout there
hoping somebody would come
and look inside, and maybe hum
"the sunshine's awfully strong this day
I'd like to wear you, if I may..."
And from the hook comes tumbling down
the very finest one in town-
the biggest, strawest, giantest Hat-
no sun could ever get past That!
Once again the Hat goes on,
the Head says, "together we're like a swan:
You're the feathers, I'm the rest,
and won't the public be impressed?"
The Head, the Hat are so excited,
To at long last be reunited.
Away they go, a smashing pair,
The sun can beat but they don't care.
The biggest, strawest, giantest bonnet
impenetrable as a Shakespearean sonnet-
and a thousand birds can rest upon it.