Phil was having a birthday. He was our neighbor, back in the day, and we knew well his idiosyncrasy in sporting a wide variety of hats. Just before he cut the cake, I struck. Even his wife, Sue, said later that she didn’t mind, really.
Phil is the town’s Mad Hatter.
His hat rack runneth over.
His fetish goes to such extremes
Hat makers are in clover.
There’s a hat for beach, one for
And one for hammock lying.
There’s a hat for football watching,
And one for apple pieing.
A hat for this, a hat for that,
No matter his persuasions.
In fact Phil has, or so says Sue –
A hat for all occasions.