High up in my room was an old sailor hat
Just gathering dust on the shelf,
And sometimes I wondered just why it was there,
And why it was all by itself.
One day, I was working at being a pirate
And took that hat down for my head.
The dust was so thick that I sneezed, “Ker-ty-shoo!”
And it flew back behind my old bed.
“Yo ho ho,” I cried out. “No old cloth hat for me.
I’ll find something more grand with a feather.”
So I rummaged around, and I found what I wanted—
A mighty hat all made of leather.
One day, my old grandpa came by to say hi,
And he visited me where I play.
So I put on my pirate clothes, “Hardy har har,”
While he signed up as mate for the day.
“When I were a lad, I sailed far,” Grandpa said,
“And the fittest of craft it were, too.
I wore on me head a white hat made of cloth
And me dress suit was all navy blue.
“O the people I rescued, the dolphins I saved,
And the whales I helped turn from their death.
I’ll never forget serving on the high seas,
And ‘tis proud I’ll be ‘til me last breath.”
Just then, I remembered the hat on the floor.
I ducked under and brought it to light.
My grandfather’s eyes started twinkling and sparkling
Like stars on a crisp, cloudless night.
“I miss seeing this fella,” he said with a wink.
“Thought maybe you’d thrown it away.
This old hat is worth more than me whole weight in gold,
Though it’s starting to turn a bit gray.
“Now, it used to be here,” and he pointed way up,
Then stood stretching and dusting the shelf
‘Til the hat was returned to its most honored place
In the highest spot, all by itself.
Now grandpa comes up to my room every day
And he always has stories to tell
About sailing the seas, about bold, loving deeds,
And the hat that he still loves so well.
Iambic Nana 