Haberdashers do not go mad
Selling the things that madness made
So when he finds the hats have learned
To whisper "Buy me and I
Will make you a woman whose cold stare
Could freeze a basilisk" or "Wear me
On a sunny day and be a man made
Of unmeltable butter" he does not think
To close up shop and retire but only
That this is how the world is now,
Adjusts prices accordingly and puts up signs
To stay clear of the loose-weave ties
That have knotted themselves into a hissing ball.
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