Allow for me to introduce

a thing, for which is little use

and not withstanding much abuse

My hat lies in the dust

It enters conversation much

but as for wear, it needs no crutch

to consecrate or feel a touch

My hat lies in the dust

In hearing idle gossip rake

“The love of Pete “, “For Heaven's sake”

or cast upon the fiery lake

My hat lies in the dust

To see the vivid side of right

I boast the armor of the light

I thrust my sword into the night

My hat lies in the dust

I hear forlorn and anguished cries

the whimpered moans and pleading lies

a raging fight before me dies

My hat lies in the dust

It is my hat that I bespeak

the hallowed crown that others seek

for without, which, I would be weak

Alas, my hat has turned to dust