I'm All That and an Appreciative Hat
I'm just an old-fashioned, flannel lumberjack shirt.
My father was some overalls, a farmer of dirt.
I'm a worn out and holey pair of cotton socks,
An unwanted sweater, packed away in a box.
My son's a fancy ascot living in New York City.
He can't be cut from the same cloth, he's too pretty -
A button down shirt, a jacket of fine leather,
A whole different sort of men's wear, altogether.
I'm aged pair of wing-tips, no longer employed,
Split along the sides, by overwork, nearly destroyed,
Living in the shiny black dress shoe memories of
Backless gowns, diamonds, stilettos and satin gloves.
I'm a quiet and unassuming pair of jeans,
A t-shirt with a picture of natural scenes,
A pair of rubber sandals, and a worn out straw hat,
A beachcomber, escaping the race of the rat.
I'm shorts on the way to the laundry in a sack,
An old hat that's traveled around the world and back.
Though I may have a loose thread that needs a snip,
Still, this hat gives life an appreciative tip.
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