"The world, too much with us..." What the World Really Needs; or, Seuss Resusitated: A Nonsense Alphabet in Meter & Rhyme

The world, too much with us, propels toward the gravel –
oe’r-heated, o'er-greeded and, once again, flat.
What’s needed to save us? A knight? Or a knave?
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 a ewe in J. Crew. Just a cat in a hat.

For a 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 multi-colored. 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 nor 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 draped in stoles – these would just 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 requir'd,” observes Seuss.
“All we actu’lly need is a cat in a hat.”)