I have a lot of hats, but only one that I ever wrote a song about.
I have racks and racks of baseball caps honoring the Cubs and the Bears and just about every exotic place I’ve ever visited, but I never wrote a song about any of them.
I have piles and piles of wide-brimmed hats to keep the sun off my neck when I’m on the beach or in the garden, but I never wrote a song about any of them.
I have boxes and boxes of black Blues Brothers hats that I wear on stage when I’m singing Blues Brothers songs with my band, but I never wrote a song about any of them.
But I have only one cowboy hat. And as soon as I got it, I knew I had to write a song about it.
I got it last summer at an old resale shop in Elburn, Illinois. I went in there with my friend, Carol, and when I saw the old cowboy hat hanging on a rack, I put it on as a joke and called her attention to it, thinking she would laugh.
But she didn’t laugh. She said, “That fits you perfectly. And it really looks good on you.”
I looked in the mirror and had to disagree. I looked like one of those non-cowboy clowns who wears a cowboy hat because he wants other people to think he’s a genuine high-plains Texas cowboy, when he’s really a salesman at a Mount Prospect screen door company.
Real cowboys have a term for clowns like that. They say: “He’s all hat and no cows.” There may be no more serious fighting words in all the cowboy world than “all hat and no cows.”
But Carol insisted: “It really does look good on you.” Somehow she managed to say it without breaking into peals of laughter.
Another lady in the shop overheard our conversation and said, “It really does.” I think she was the owner of the shop and was just trying to make a sale, but still.
So now the vote was 2-1 in favor of my buying the hat.
I was hoping it was priced ridiculously high, so I checked the little green tag on the inside of the brim—five bucks. Damn.
I bought the hat, because I figured I might be able to use it as an ironic stage prop sometime to sing a cowboy song.
But just to be clear here, yes, I own a cowboy hat. But I don’t think I’m a cowboy. I don’t want other people to think that I think I’m a cowboy. I don’t want to hear some real cowboy walk past and mutter “All hat and no cow.” Because then I’d have to fight him, and the only thing that looks stupider than a suburban guy wearing a cowboy hat is a suburban guy wearing a cowboy hat while his nose bleeds.
And so, just so there wouldn’t be any question about it, I went right home and wrote a song about my cowboy hat. It goes like this:
All Hat, No Cows
by TR Kerth
“Yippee ki-yi-yay” all the cowpokes say/
But why the hell are they pokin’ them cows anyway?/
Git along little dogies, but where the dogies supposed to go?/
Don’t even get me started talking ‘bout the rodeo.
If you look at my hat you might think that I’m a buckaroo./
I only wear it ‘cuz some chicks dig it—at least I hope they do./
“Yippee ki-yi-yay” all the wranglers say./
And if you’ll let me wrangle with you—yippee ki-yi-yay!
I ain’t got no boots, I don’t carry no gun,/
I’m just wearin’ this hat trying to have some fun./
I don’t roll cigarettes from a tobacco pouch./
I don’t sleep on the range under stars, I take a nap on the couch.
If you look at my hat, you might think that I’m a buckaroo,/
But I don’t really like horses or cows, unless they’re in a zoo./
Yippee-ki-yi-yay, I sing it night and day,/
Hopin’ someone can tell me what it means: Yippee ki-yi-yay!
I ain’t ridin’ no range with no lariat./
Without my GPS, where the hell am I at?/
I ain’t eatin’ no beans at no wagon named Chuck./
I’m just a regular suburban guy tryin’ to better his luck.
If you look at my hat, you might think that I’m a buckaroo,/
But I ain’t wearin’ no ass-less chaps—unless you want me to./
(But they’d look better on you…)
So yippee ki-yi-yay, ladies, what do you say?/
I’m all hat and no cows, yippee ki-yi-yay!
I wanna get back in the saddle somehow, yippee ki-yi-yay!/
Tryin’ to make you think I’m well-endowed, yippee ki-yi-yay!
So that’s the story of the only song I ever wrote about a hat I own. As a postscript, I actually did wear the hat on stage to sing an ironic cowboy song — this one. And then I used the hat to write a story for my column — this one.
So that’s really the only reason why I own a cowboy hat. I swear, I don’t really think I’m a cowboy. I’m all hat and no cows.
But damn, I really do look good in it.
Author, musician and storyteller TR Kerth is a retired teacher who has lived in Sun City Huntley since 2003. Contact him at trkerth@yahoo.com. Can’t wait for your next visit to Planet Kerth? Then get TR’s book, “Revenge of the Sardines,” available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other online book distributors.
