The Denton Hatter

Felt hats, silk hats, soft hats, stiff hats
Flat caps, mad hats…Mad hats?
Hide the rabbits, mercury calling
Delirium forming, synaptics storming
Turn fur to felt, the factories mix
A dire solution that makes you sick
Itching and scratching, some in great pain
As the toxin sneaked into the workers veins
Coughs and splutters amongst the force
As mercury poisoning ran its course
Standing out from the madding crowd
Their pink skin in a monotint town
In a dreamlike state as they made for work
Their faces wearing an insane smirk
‘As mad as a hatter’ people would say
As they passed their neighbours every day
And so this place was no Wonderland
No Mock Turtle, no Knave of Hearts
No Cheshire cat in those Lancashire parts
And the only Alice living round there
Was a little old lady with silvery hair
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