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.