My fedora fits like a glove,
though it maybe falling apart–
with moth bites here and there,
and the ribbon partially stained.
I love my hat and I wouldn’t trade
it for all the money in the world.
There’s nothing like a well weathered
Chapeau to frame my handsome face,
It’s not shiny and nice; but aged and
well worn in—and that makes me feel
happy like the comfort of
an ole trusted friend.