On a Morning late in Feb
folks heard
White Rabbit was dead
As they gathered to say goodbye
A figure down the road they spied
First of march was the date
and this arrival was really late
"This is'nt proper it's not right"
some muttered
"This fellow's tight"
The figure yelled
"What does it matter?"
They saw it was
a drunk Mad Hatter
Mad as a March Hare
he staggered close
opening a bottle
and downing a dose
Looking at rabbit lying there
he fell flat on his face
with a vacant stare
Passsing out by rabbits head
they buried them both
thinking
both were dead
Gold trophy winner
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