Gardener at Heart - Book Two

The Purple Hat

There once was a lady

    Who wore a felt hat

That was purple as grape juice

    And soft as a cat.

She wore it with dresses,

    She wore it with pants,

Yes, she wore it to dine in,

    She wore it to dance.

She wore it to bed,

    And she wore it to shower;

She wouldn’t remove it

    Whatever the hour.

This lady was weeding

    Her garden one day

When her dog grabbed that hat—

    Yes, he snatched it away.

He nabbed that old hat thingy

    Right off her head,

And he took off across

    Her new vegetable bed.

The lady leaped up

    And she screeched like a cat,

And she chased that dog thief

    And got hold of her hat.

That dog, he was big,

    Yes, that dog, he was strong,

And he had some white teeth

    About nine inches long.

He wouldn’t let go of it,

    Neither would she;

Oh, they tugged and they wrassled

    From two until three.

The dog, he was growling;

    The lady, she swore;

Oh, they made a big racket

    From three until four.

They stepped on some pansies,

    They went round the shed,

And they jumped all the vines

    In the cucumber bed.

They trampled some daisies,

    They knocked down some figs,

And they slipped in the mud

    And got dirty as pigs.

No matter what happened,

    Up high or down low,

They just wouldn’t give up,

    They just wouldn’t let go.

They bumped on the bird bath,

    Got scratched by a rose,

They were slapped by a shrub,

    Then they tripped on the hose.

They fell in the hammock,

    Both lady and hound,

And it flipped up and dumped them

    Right out on the ground.

At last that old hat

    Couldn’t take any more.

That old purple hat ripped.

    That old purple hat tore.

It ripped right apart

    From the crown to the brim,

And a half went to her,

    And a half went to him.

They both of them landed

    Smack dab on their rumps,

And the hat parts went flying

    And fell in two lumps.

The lady was crying,

    The dog pawed and whined,

And the hat was in two hunks,

    One fore and one hind.

The lady got up

    And she looked at her hat.

Well, it sure was a sight.

    And yet that was not that.

She wiped off her tears

    On the front of her shirt.

Then she picked up the pieces

    And shook off the dirt.

She took them inside

    And she turned on the light.

Then she fit them together

    Until they looked right.

She got out a needle.

    She got out some thread.

Then she popped on her thimble.

    “I’ll fix it,” she said.

She sewed up that hat.

    She was sure she could do it.

She stitched it together

    And said, “Nothing to it!”

She found a big ribbon,

    A lovely lime green,

And she tied on a bow

    That was fit for a queen.

She sewed it in place.

    Then she tried on her hat.

Then she looked in the mirror

    And gave it a pat.

And that purple hat

    Is still snug on her head,

And she don’t give a rip

    For what anyone’s said.

She wears it with dresses,

    She wears it with pants,

Yes, she wears it to dine in,

    She wears it to dance.

She wears it to bed,

    And she wears it to shower;

She still won’t remove it,

    Whatever the hour.

But there’s just one place

    Where she doesn’t dare wear it,

And that’s in her garden.

    Her dog, he can’t bear it!

Sometimes that old dog,

    As he sleeps on the floor,

Is a-twitch as he dreams

    Of the purple-hat war!

copyright © 2015 Jane Gibson || all rights reserved
code & design by Byron S. Gibson
best viewed in modern non-Microsoft browsers