The 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