Audrey was invited to a party in a place
Where swans patrolled a man-made garden pond,
And peacocks had a lawn or two to use and call their base.
It's the sort of place you'd meet a man called Bond.

She nearly spent a fortune when she bought a dress and shoes,
And she thought her hair required a change of style.
She couldn't quite decide so she let her stylist choose.
She could tell that he had plenty skill and guile.

But as she left the place, she noticed, with surprise,
That her stylist had a guide dog on a lead.
She'd been just as blind herself. All the time her eyes
Had been focussed on material to read.

She had assumed her stylist wore dark glasses to look cool.
She blamed herself for giving him free rein.
She faced the possibility of looking like a fool.
Her hair could lead to doubts about her brain.

It was too late for a change. The only thing to do
Was to go and hope she didn't look too odd.
She could easily avoid the brightest lights, and she knew
That she'd attract undue attention with a nod.

It wasn't all that bad. Most people didn't stare.
It seemed her style was part of fashion trends.
'Interesting' was the adjective used about her hair.
She was able to relax and mix with friends.

Hugh was there as well. He was conscious of his head,
And the contents that he kept up on the top.
For years he's worn a wig, and he's very often said
That he's tempted to replace it with a mop.

His wig gets very angry, especially when it's woken.
It likes to sleep for most of every day.
So Hugh moves very slowly and he's always softly spoken.
Awake, his wig will always have its way.

The simplest of decisions need attention and great care.
He could ask someone to dance with blinding charm.
He can use the sweetest words but if his wig dislikes her hair,
Around his head there'll be a sense of harm.

He can't convince his wig that the thing upon her head
Is merely just her hair and not a wig.
Its unrelenting anger can create a sense of dread.
It nearly caused a riot at a gig.

At the party he met Audrey. He asked her out to dance.
They enjoyed a gentle waltz around the floor.
His wig's continued sleep depended heavily on chance.
It woke when someone slammed a huge oak door.

Hugh expected trouble, but the wig felt only love,
Its anger lost in love's prevailing fog.
For Audrey and her hair, Hugh thanked God above.
Audrey thanked her stylist and his dog.