It's the Hat that Makes the Man.
Copyright, 1891, by Prank Tousey.
Words by I. Kroch. Music by Monroe H. Rosenfeld.
McNulty bought a new silk hat, then on a racket went;
he had ten dollars in his clothes, and blew in every cent;
He got so full of tanglefoot he didn't know his name,
And just as he was coming home it started in to rain.
The people gazed in wonder as McNulty they did meet.
His face was tied up in a knot, his shoes were full of feet;
His dress suit was a total wreck, his whiskers they did leak,
And as he strolled along the street most loudly he did shriek:
It's the hat that makes the man, so I do not care a rap:
I haven't got a dollar, but I'd never wear a cap;
For I have a nobby tile, and I work upon this plan,
Fine feathers make fine birds, me lads, but it's the hat that makes the man.
His feet were making monograms as he went staggering by,
The little kids around him at his dicer bricks did shy;
When he got tired yelling out then he began to dance,
But fell upon the sidewalk bare, and laid there in a trance;
At last he reached his dwelling, gave the bell an awful tug,
The night was dark, his darling wife could only see his mug;
She dropped the poker on the floor, she had no use for that.
But cried with joy, McNulty, dear, where did you get that hat?-Chorus.
A cap I always did dislike, it makes a man look small,
It robs him of his character and lakes away his gall;
Some men upon their uppers tread, and use a rusty nail
To elevate their pantaloons, wear coats without a tail;
But if your dicer's shined with molasses or with glue,
You bet your life, me gallant boys, your hat will see you through;
And should in politics you want a job that's big and fat,
Just imitate our brother Ben and wear your grand-dad's hat.-Chorus.