The other day I considered, was it time to buy a new hat? And one that would make me look skinny. I’ve heard of miracles like that.
I perused the cowboy hats on the wall. There were black ones and gray ones alike. I wanted to leave with a brand new hat but would soon hear about the price hike.
I picked out a Stetson, at least the right name. And pointed it out to the clerk. He snatched it so fast, it made my head swim. I was thinking he might be a jerk.
He said, “You sure you want this hat? It’s got a hefty price.” I asked how much. He said, “Three hundred!” Didn’t have to tell me twice!
The doggone clerk was wearing his smirk. Said, “Your hat’s a sad sad story.” But I won’t call him jerk, ‘cuz he sounded more like a snollygoster in glory.
This hat of mine was given to me some fifty years to date. A 10X Stetson from my folks, in hopes I’d graduate.
My hat ain’t got a fancy shape like Yellowstone or Gus. Not every hat is Hollywood. So pardner, what’s the fuss?
This hat has kept my head warm from the frigid winter days. And blocks out all the sunburn from the sunshine’s hottest rays.
I remember the day when old Jake tossed me high. I came slamming hard to the ground. But my hat stayed in place. There is no disgrace for a lid that keeps your head sound.
Now the top of my head ain’t seen a hair’s thread since forty-odd years passed me by. But my hat don’t complain. It stays just the same, slightly cocked there above my right eye.
To my daughter’s despair, I wore my hat to see my grandson born. Yet I did take it off when Grandma passed, hat in hand we all did mourn.
I’m wearing my old hat again. How long will it be around? Each morning it’s still on the hook. I know where it can be found.
I’ll dust the dirt and grime off from my Stetson cowboy hat. And treat it much more kindly than a plain old head hat rack.
It’s more than just a hat. My Stetson’s full of history. It don’t matter ‘bout its looks, my hat is good enough for me.
So with luck for years I’ll keep this hat. It’s a classic at this place. ‘Cuz it fits down snug, guarding my mug. Yes, I think it adds grit to my face.