Papa’s Hat Papa’s Hat Papa’s Hat Poem by Moses Kainwo

Papa wore his hats in shades:
Black hat on black suit,
Brown hat on brown suit;
You name the suit,
And I name the hat.

Under his hat,
Stick in hand,
Papa matched
Like a Yankee;
In spite of heat.

I used to wonder:
When he wore his first hat,
Why he wore it,
Where he wore it,
And who saw it.

Did he grow tall,
Or did he grow old,
Under his first hat;
Wearing it over his heart,
In style for the file.

Red hats, white hats,
Green hats, yellow hats,
Felt hats, straw hats,
Bowler hats, top hats,
Panama hats, peaked hats;

Orange hats and Stetsons.
Papa saw them all,
But did not wear them all;
He only wore what matched,
The colours of his heart.

Maybe to Church
On a sunny day:
Black for black,
Brown for brown,
He wore them all to match.

I have seen hats,
I have won hats,
But the gait is unique;
And Papa had his gait
With his head up.

With shoulders up,
From time to time,
And stick in hand;
He saw them all
And prayed a prayer.

I have an idea,
To put on Papa’s hat
And walk the streets:
For fame and favours
Papa scored.

I cannot wear a woman’s hat,
Since that should go with women’s dress
And fake license to the ladies’.
No, Papa had none of that
And I must be me:

Papa’s son in Papa’s hat;
I shall grow tall,
And smile tall,
And speak tall,
And wave my hat above hearts.