As I was drinking oolong tea and wearing my karakul hat,
I recalled a time of years gone by when I bought my first water rat.
I was ignorant then of its importance and thought it a mere covering for hair.
I soon realised that when choosing a hat, one must take the greatest of care.

To sport a water rat, when you should clearly be wearing a mink,
is to announce to the world and for all to see that you simply cannot think.
The measure of man isn’t his penis, his muscles or hair on his chest.
But the man who wears a karakul hat is clearly one of the best.

The water rat, though fetching, is for farmers, the peasants and poor.
They have their place in society, but dare do they darken my door.
The rabbit skin is for merchants, for taxi-cab drivers and such.
But when it gets wet, the stench fills my nose and nothing you ever could touch.

The chinchilla and mink is for bankers and bosses and those from the great KGB.
But the karakul lamb is reserved for the rich, the wealthy and those like me.
A foreigner, should certainly sport the karakul, no matter the size of his purse.
To be seen in a rabbit skin, fox or rat could certainly bring down a curse.

It doesn’t matter your feelings on furriers or the trading of animal skins.
The most important thing in an Asian land is your hat and how you fit in.
Forget how they slaughter the young karakul lamb, before it ever is born.
I don’t understand the disgust of the Westerners, their high and mighty scorn.

After all, they all think we’re wealthy, so why shouldn’t I live like that?
I am a man, with the greatest of treasures. I now have a karakul hat.