The Hat

Mommy and Daddy abandoned me for good Teachers beat me constantly with baseball bats Because they're practical for batting practice I'm not sad because of all that stuff While walking home from school it happened I wost my wittle hat right off my pointed head What's worse it was the wind that did it What the F is wrong with that The wind snuck up from behind without warning Became my mortal enemy from that day forward It became such a catastrophe for little me My hat means everything I hate the wind so much it makes me spit Perhaps I should stop breathing it The air is nasty A tiny lad needs his hat in winter The thought of my head cover gone forever Floating away lost in the clouds somewhere Makes me want to cry out loud Scares me to think there is no law to fit the crime *Authors disclaimer: The letter “F” used in this poem stands for “fun” or “fog.” The author can not say for certain which one. (He was out walking when this poem came about and lost his little mind.) With further education at some future date the letter “F” might stand for something else. Perhaps frog or phrog (for the more intellectually inclined.) More schooling will be required to imagine that. (I hope I have satisfied the censors.) Also: The authors parents were very nice people (for those of you who might be inclined to cry at this time.)