The Story of a Hat

THE STORY OF A HAT.

Beloved, keep your temper,
And your good souls possess,
While I discuss some preachers,
Their manners, style, and dress.

And also their misfortunes,
And mishaps, which befall,
(Despite good faith and doctrine,)
Here on this earthly ball.

The long-tail coat hath often
Been put in long-tail rhyme,
But that is not my subject
At this auspicious time.

I know one Bro. Paulus,
Who wore a large mustache:
He was quite long on whiskers,
But always short on cash.

He did not sprinkle water,
As a religious rite,
But sprinkled soup and gravy
On everything in sight!

His nice, white, clean shirt-bosom,
His waistcoat, cup and plate,
And the neat table linen
Was made a candidate!

But long coats and long whiskers
Are not the text today,
But long hats are the subject
Of this long, lean essay.

The late lamented Caskey,
A preacher of renown,
Was sounding out the gospel
In an east Texas town.

And with his wondrous logic,
Well know in Tennessee,
He thundered forth the glories
Of our great Christian plea.

Some wild sectarian hoodlums,
Well trained in wicked quips,
Stole forth his tile to cow-lot,
And filled it full of -- chips!

He left that place, bare-headed,
His wrath in grand array,
And left his hat for witness
In the great judgment day!

Almost as bad misfortune,
In the long, long ago,
Befell a bold evangelist,
Entitled "Weeping Joe."

Joe got an invitation
Out in the town to dine,
And wore his two-foot beaver,
Tall, slick, and very fine.

The table groaned with viands,
(Fried chicken, cake and pie,)
Which raised the preacher's visions
To glory up on high.

When he came forth from dinner,
He found a stalwart brat,
Cross-legged sitting grandly
Upon his stove-pipe hat!

One Rev. Jonas Johnson
Upon his caput wore
A tall, slick, two-foot bee-gum,
As in days of yore.

He was assigned a circuit
Out in the windy west,
And there his troubles took him,
Although he did his best.

That hat blew off and started
Adown the busy street,
Among the carts and wagons,
And 'neath the horses' feet.

The preacher was a sprinter,
And fearlessly gave chase,
And traders, clerks and merchants
Stopped work to see the race!

The hat would halt a moment,
Then on again 'twoud go,
Just as the notion took it,
Or as the wind would blow.

Sometimes he'd stoop to catch it,
A frown upon his face,
But miss--and then--oh, thunder!
He'd nearly fall from grace!

Straight to a muddy puddle
That hat went--down into---
And took a dip, (not sprinkle,)
As no good hat should do!

A dozen boys, barefooted,
Joined in the wild pursuit,
As o'er the farms and pastures
That hat did madly scoot!

And six young men on bronchos,
In dashing western style,
And ten long-legged greyhounds
Pursued that preacher's tile!

Five miles--ten miles--still onward,
O'er heather, field, and plain,
The racers went like furies,
Grand effort---all in vain!

A black speck in the distance,
Like swiftly flying crow,
That hat sailed on in grandeur
To Gulf of Mexico!

Thus ran the wondrous story,
As it was told to me,
The truth I will not question,
A skeptic will not be.

Long coats may not be sinful,
Long whiskers---I won't say---
A long hat will cause trouble,
If it should blow away!