Napoleon was miserable
Very sad and flat
To cap it all
A strong wind blew
Whipping off his Tricorn Hat!
Same Old Hat
It was same old hat I had worn for years
And even though as my last one nears
Many memories meaning so much to me
Were waiting there and will always be.
There was the time I held your hand
While picnicking by sea sitting in the sand
When birds and your voice flew around
And forever can still hear each sound.
Also hear your heart beating next to mine,
After giving you a very nice Valentine
Saw your picturesque face when you passed away
Then flowers did put on your grave every day.
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Wrinkled, worn, and weather-beaten
one old hat sits a loft a dusty shelf.
A witness to individual history,
a vision of days gone by
of both good and bad times,
a garment of many memories.
Like a King's crown,
the hat once sat cocked to the right
over a stern, but wise brow.
Well used and sweat stained,
but worn with dignity and pride
by one unyielding individualist.
A common man by all accounts
of uncommon quality and character.
A man who never lost focus
on the true widgets of life
even when it was at a cost.
A man who once owned:
a pocket full of dreams,
a desire for pure freedom,
a true lust for life,
and one old hat.
Upon the shelf there is nothing but a hat,
all dusty and faded from where it has sat,
being in the same place and the same spot,
since the very day that it was bought,
it does not seem to have a purpose,
only to keep dust off of the surface,
of the shelf on which it sits,
high above all of the other outfits,
but perhaps it was too small,
maybe i just don't recall.
With twenty-six letters of lead
I'll conquer the world,he said-
Das Kapital...no longer red.
Oh, how could I ever be bored?
When I had such interesting chores.
I had to paint our bedroom door,
Then mop the grand, speckled floor.
Walked quickly down to the shore,
And dug hidden clams with the oar.
Made a tasty clam-supper for four,
Then into their big bowls I poured.
Knowing, they would yell for more,
Prompting my tender voice to roar -
All gone, there's more at the store!
Or take a lantern to search the shore.
However, they cost more at the store,
But not a penny, to dig with the oar.
Oh, I'm sure you will not get bored,
Performing such an interesting chore.
For soon in bed, I will sweetly snore,
With a sound much louder than yours.
Last night the paint actually, tore,
From the ceiling and door, it poured.
And that is why, I happily wore,
That Silly Old Hat Of Yours.
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