He lives in a shoe, a very big one.
He gets lots of air with the laces undone.
He likes to wear sandals, and rarely wears socks.
He puts on his good shoes when somebody knocks,

Or rings the front doorbell to call for a chat,
Like Lucy next door, who lives in a hat.
She's deeply in love with this man in a shoe.
She's certain he's destined to feel that way too.

She speaks in a sweet Transylvanian voice.
Sometimes in her hand she holds two red dice,
And rolls them away, and says, "Two and four."
She slowly retrieves the red dice from the floor.

Some people would find this behaviour quite sinister.
And call an austere Presbyterian Minister.
He finds it entrancing. He's dreaming of sinning.
Thoughts and desires go dancing and spinning.

Between his two ears are the words he should say.
From there to his mouth they get lost on the way.
They often come out as a faint sighing sound,
While she tries to find the red dice on the ground.

One night in a candle-lit room in her hat,
They eat a dessert and a chocolate cake that
She made to encourage the death of all doubt.
They finally kiss and the candle burns out.

At last they look forward to one future life,
Living together as husband and wife.
They talk about buying a much bigger hat.
Together they'll pay for the mortgage on that.

They look at a hat on a hill with a view
Of a valley nearby and a neighbouring shoe.
A hill-climbing boot with a shoe for a shed.
There's room for his shoulders but not for his head.

A two-storey top hat with stairs in the hall.
You could swing a cat. There's space on the wall
Where paintings and ornaments will one day be hung.
She says that her latest cat loves to be swung.

They both can imagine a happy life here.
They'll make it a home and treat it with care.
She feels for her friend, who just got the key
To her newest love nest high up in a tree.