Unfunny uncles who insistin trying on a lady's hat,—oh, even if the joke falls flat,we share your slight transvestite twistin spite of our embarrassment.
Costume and custom are complex.
The headgear of the other sexinspires us to experiment.
Anandrous aunts, who, at the beachwith paper plates upon your laps,keep putting on the yachtsmen's capswith exhibitionistic screech,the visors hanging o'er the earso that the golden anchors drag,—the tides of fashion never lag.
Such caps may not be worn next year.
Or you who don the paper plateitself, and put some grapes upon it,or sport the Indian's feather bonnet,—perversities may aggravatethe natural madness of the hatter.
And if the opera hats collapseand crowns grow draughty, then, perhaps,he thinks what might a miter matter?
Unfunny uncle, you who wore ahat too big, or one too many,tell us, can't you, are there anystars inside your black fedora?
Aunt exemplary and slim,with avernal eyes, we wonderwhat slow changes they see undertheir vast, shady, turned-down brim.
