The Hatter isn’t Mad (a poem for Mad Hatters Day, October 6th or June 10th)

The Hatter isn’t mad!
He is misunderstood
By errant fools and noisome knaves.
They’re the ones who rave.
It’s true he likes to break the rules
When tea time will allow.
But where? and why? and how?
And what’s the point of getting up
When the pot is full of tea
And his friends are always there.

He’d welcome you and me.
(that should be ”I”? – says Alice,
examining the grammar,
studying the dictionary).

The Hatter doesn’t care.
He lets the March Hare worry,
In a hurry and a scurry.
He lets the Dormouse sleep
In a snoring heap.
The secrets of the Hatter
Are the dreams inside his hat
(he won’t speak of that,
nor should you and I).

He smiles at pretty Alice
As the days drift by.
The truth about the Hatter
Is the twinkle in his eye

”Have another cup of tea”
he says.
”My cake won’t make you fat”
And wonders if you’ll shrink.
”Let’s not think!” he shouts
As the table turns about.


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