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Nearly a Has-Beanie

I love my hat called beanie for headgear when it's cold

It keeps my ears protected - important when you're old

It's even got a liner to keep out winter rain

Though Viv may say that's plastic, I rate it still the same

It was upon the car seat when Ken and I returned

From seeing Spurs at Wembley and three points ably earned

But on the next chill morning, when snow lay all around

My happy world was shattered - no beanie could be found

Our Ken he was the culprit - of that I was so sure

I said - please try to find it when freezing turns to thaw

You must have dragged it from the car on getting out your bag

Just have a good search round about - it wasn't such a fag

I waited days for any news, but sadly there was none

My hat that I so treasured has-beanie had become

It was just lost forever - to that I was resigned

But on return to Aston, my titfer I did find

Bedraggled and forgotten, upon the grass it lay

Crumpled, soiled and sodden, although it made my day

With Ken I remonstrated that this was just not fine

Yet he said – “I was offered that, but knew it was not mine”

The moral is a sad one - on some you can depend

But if my hat I lose again, it's not our Ken I'll send.

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