There would have been a great story in
The wandering wonders of a magical thing:
The wonderful hat that could actually sing!
One time it had that glorious gift,
To sing aloud wild words gone adrift
And baffle all listeners, while spirits it’d lift
Though sadly said it never could stay
Because men would fight over it, so the hat broke away,
Travel by air to another day
At one time things got so very bad,
It was the grave gravedigger, who got really mad
“It’s mine!” he claimed, but then got hit in the head
With his own damn shovel, ain’t that just sad.
In awe the hat had dropped to the floor,
And mumbled in a gloomy tone: “no more!”
“From now on I will never again sing,
No aria, jazz, or soul, or swing,
I will now be known as a silent thing.”
And thus concludes this bizarre tale,
The hat would sometimes just softly wail,
Cursed, by his gift, forever ail.
2012 Edwin
