My Ragged Old Hat.

by Frederick Tucker Deatker Jr.

 * * * * *

My ragged ol' hat, a story that’s true

It started during the Boer war in Nineteen 0 Two

This rotten hat so old is still mine

Old and worn, and also torn

Not even a swaggie would give a dime.

* * * * *

In the midst of the fray

A digger badly bleeding lay

A bayonet dropped him to the ground

With Blood and dust all around

He lay helpless as a baby lamb

Thank the Lord he was a tough man.

His face all bruised and on the floor

and with blurry eyes he saw

A young lieutenant from the medical corp.

You will be okay the lieutenant swore

And dragged a stretcher to where he lay

And ordered him to be carried away.

His hat lay by his side

The digger’s joy, the digger's pride

The emu feather was straight and proud

The ribbon was so firmly bound

"Thank you sir for saving my life

So please accept this hat o mine

Has been with me through heat and slime

Has been my savior this horrible time."

The digger he then walked away

And behind him left that war and crime.

* * * * *

When I was five perhaps a bit older

An old retired Major tapped me on the shoulder

He gave me a hat all faded and stained

Was once worn, by a wounded soldier

Around the crown an old leather belt

Large brimmed, rotten, and made of felt.

Perhaps a gentleman would call it a disgrace

But he gave it to me with a smile on his face.

* * * * *

He sat me down with a story to tell

I knew this old major very well Major Dr. Frederick Tucker Deatker

So many years had passed since then

So many words that had been spoken

So many years and still so sad

 It's time now to introduce this old Lad,

He happened to be my dear GRAND DAD.