The hat waited on the hat rack
And cast a sorrowful gaze
At the threadbare coat, the dirty boots,
The slowly passing days

It used to sit atop the head
Of a man with short black hair
And held itself quite high above
The coat, grown old with wear

The hat waited on the hat rack,
Dust settled on its brim
It peered out at the sunny skies,
Its structure caving in

It turned to gaze, with a tired sigh,
Out of the window pane,
Waiting for colder weather
And a chance to dance in the rain

The boots now cast a pitying glance
At this tired, patient hat
Who had no way of knowing
How long the boots had sat.

The hat waited on the hat rack,
Watching the bright blue skies
As days grew shorter and colder
And the children came inside

When autumn came the hat sat still,
Alone on the well-worn hook,
Watching the gleaming new top hat
With a tired, forlorn look

It watched the top hat wink at him
And with an air of superior grace
The kind of look, he'd given the boots
When he'd sat in the top hat's place

That hat waited on the hat rack
And sighed a feathery sigh
And stared out of the window
As three whole years stole by

That hat waited on the hat rack
As the sun set in the sky
And watched as the weary top hat
Now breathed a tired sigh

The top hat joined the old hat,
And they sat upon the rack
And watched the man don a new hat
That plainly smiled back

The story isn't a sad one,
Bitter endings aren't nice to say
I must tell now you that both old hats
Made it to Broadway!

The son had come and seen the two,
Waiting on that sad rack
And picked them up and gave them
To a theater for an act

So the hat waited on the hat rack,
Thinking of his last play
How he'd twirled and danced in the gleaming lights
And glowed as bright as day