The Ballade of the Woman
in the Fucking Stupid Hat

I see her weekday mornings waiting at
  The station for her train on platform two. 
She either stands with coffee, or she’s sat
  Engrossed in some free paper, as you do.
I can’t not look at her, and nor could you - 
  Though neither pretty nor extremely fat,
She makes for quite a mesmerising view,
  That woman in the fucking stupid hat.

Her headgear makes her look like such a twat,
  You’ve no idea. It’s furry and bright blue
With little pointy ears just like a cat -
  The sort of thing that most of us outgrew
Around the age we tired of ‘peekaboo’.
  If braver or a better diplomat,  
I’d tell her that a new one’s overdue,
  That woman in the fucking stupid hat.

In fact, however ghastly is the tat 
  She wears, it is unfortunately true
To say that I’d provoke a nasty spat
  By giving her a friendly talking to  -
It’s futile to engage with people who
  Elect to dress as tastelessly as that. 
She really doesn’t have a bloody clue,
  That woman in the fucking stupid hat.

Envoi

Prince Charming is not going to pursue
  A Cinderella titfered like a prat,  
But then what kind of bloke would want to screw
  That woman in the fucking stupid hat?

Rob Stuart