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Oh to thee be this story told, so in like the days of old thy straw hat be bold. Though fragile it holds and clings to thy skull, and it stays and it clings each string and all, made by thy grandmother dear in a year by which man were to fear. War and blood had stained thy hands as a sewing maid knitted bend the straws into place for a knight who's scars bid him to hide his face. The fire that burned the town to the ground had lit and sprung from the song that he sung. So now this straw hat with story so strong and so bold, may make you this day all the more bold.