Gabby Hayes' Hat

Those days of faithful sidekicks have all but passed us by, We’d rather watch car crashes or someone blown sky-high. Playing the second fiddle was Gabby’s first jackpot: For Tom Tyler, Hoppy, Roy and even Randolph Scott. But in a world gone loco and too-filled with this and that, We still wonder what became of Gabby Hayes’ hat. He was the shabby coot we could barely comprehend, But when all the chips were down, we knew just who to send. His hat was folded back, dog-eared, battered and threadbare— Rough and scratchy like his face, but he was always there. But now too few remember his rasping codger chat— We wish the world was simple as Gabby Hayes’ hat. Is it now in a museum or sold for cold, hard cash Or buried there with him or thrown away with the trash? They just don’t make any sidekicks like Gabby Hayes now, With that gray-whiskered mug, long hair and that furrowed brow. And there’s no singing cowboys unless from Nashville town— And now they just wear the hats but not the cowboy crown. Yet as the world passes by and we grow old and fat, We still wonder what became of Gabby Hayes’ hat.