The Digger Hat
I've seen some lids in days gone by
From Bris. to Dunedoo;
Top hats that strive to reach the sky,
And cloth caps round the "Loo;
The sombrero and the stockman
That shade from Queensland suns,
The topi that is favourite
On many outback runs
I've have seen in busy roadways
All the fashions cities know-
The bowler and the pork-pie
With its crown so very low.
I have seen the swagman's relic,
The turban and the fez,
And all the hats that cut a style
From Sydney to Suez.
But there's a hat I'm wearing,
And I think it beats them all
From the Cape to San Francisco,
From Melbourne to Whitehall;
For it's been in many countries
And in each it did its share,
From the mud and slush of Flanders
To Sinai's heat and glare.
So I'm proud to wear my rabbit's fur
Although she's creased and worn,
And not so slick as polished caps
The Tommies' heads adorn;
For it has an air of Aussie,
Of "Come and have a drink?"
The good old easy style that leads
To glory or "the clink."
It exudes the smell of gum leaves
From crown to sweaty band
And often makes me homesick
In this Palestinian sand;
But it stands for Right and Manhood-
And who'd want more than that?
That's why, one day in '40
I took the Digger hat!