The world, too
much with us, hurls headlong towards hell –
o’er-seeded,
oe’r-heated and, once again, flat.
What’s needed
to save us? Some critter du jour?
No, what’s actu’lly needed’s a cat in a hat.
No afghans in
caftans. No bluejays in PJs.
No cock in a
frock. No cravat-adorned rat.
No doe dans chapeau. No dugongs in sarongs.
Not one ewe in J.
Crew. Just a cat in a hat.
For the
super-sized storm, formed as oceans wax warm,
can’t be calmed
by some nattily jacketed sprat.
Nor is strife
in Beirut rooted out by some coot
In a coat –
though it could be: think “cat
in a hat.”
Not a flea in a
T. No gazelle in Chanel.
Not a
wig-wearin’ heron in Karan – not that.
Not wild Irish
setters in styled Irish sweaters.
Not jays in
berets. Just a cat in a hat.
For to regulate
guns run by Nazis and Huns
can’t get done
by some outerwear-outfitted gnat.
Nor can
car-coated larks prevent racist remarks.
That can only be
done by a cat in a hat.
Not some coy
kangaroos wearing sensible shoes.
Not a lamb in a
tam – there’s just no call for that.
Not some white
marmosets in too-tight farmerettes.
Not some newts
wearing boots. Just a cat in a hat.
For the plight
of the poor won’t be given “what for’
by some eels in
high heels or some bonneted bats.
Nor can views
fundamental be rendered more gentle
by foxes in
socks. Just by top-hatted cats.
No giraffe-like
okapis in Spanish serapes.
No pythons in
nylons: those aren’t where it’s at.
Not a quail in
chain mail. Not some rabbits in sabots.
No shad clad in
plaid. Just a cat in a hat.
For while
healthcare for all seems an order too tall
for a fruit fly
in drip-dry supplied by his frat
or a lemur-like
lynx draped in ermines and minks,
it’s as easy as
pie for a cat in a hat.
Neither turtles
in girdles, ukaris in saris
nor voles dressed
in stoles – these would all leave us flat.
Not a whale in
a veil nor a Harris-tweed xerus.
No yak in a
mac. Just a cat in a hat.
For no pederast
priest can be curbed by a beast
in a fleece
that’s pre-creased – after all: tit for tat.
Nor are worm
cans debugged by some slugs rya-rugged.
All’s best
left, in the end, to a cat in a hat.
(Might a
gussied-up zorse try to save us? Of course.
But that zorse
and his ilk lack the needed “eclat.”
“Neither goose,
mouse nor moose is required,” observes Seuss.
“All we actu’lly need is a cat in a
hat.”)
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