Hat-Man!

 

There he goes, in old timey strut,

where dullards call him “society slut”,

as the many who all look alike,

in judgement make a stale spike,

believing the numbers can make a ban,

of the unique wonder called hat-man!

 

Both with impact, and practicality,

he dons milliner’s variety,

street urchins; so brash; say “he’s so weird!”

For nesting a blue tit, in his beard,

but he so proud, brushes off their scan,

to remain the defiant, one hat-man!

 

Indoors, and at any graveside,

he continues to wear, his cap with pride,

then the flock flares up, his “disrespect”,

ignoring his tears, that do reflect,

to tell a crowd’s habits, to kick the can,

thus, let him be, a true hat-man!

 

Surrounded by them, he needs his space,

from claustrophobic human race,

who by their deeds, spray dishonour,

perhaps fedora could be his cover,

protecting him, from a shoddy plan,

this oh so scaredy, sad hat-man!