Le Bistro Chapeau

Le Bistro Chapeau


There’s a bistro in Paris,

A dirty old door.

A faded and red-brick façade.

A most unique place,

Lies beyond the door.

You enter and smile as you nod.


Up on the wall

There’s a menu supreme,

With entrees spelled out in all caps.

Literally caps.

No, it’s not a dream.

May I take your order perhaps?


A fedora for starters?

Or maybe a fez?

A chullo or bowler for style?

A hat like one worn by Hernando Cortez?

Sit back, relax for a while.


A deerstalker’s perfect

For solving a case,

A dunce cap for bearing the shame.

A black balaclava

For hiding your face,

A helmet for playing a game.


A coonskin, a beanie,

An Irish beret,

A toque if you’re cooking a meal,

A Stetson or top hat

From back in the day.

It all just depends how you feel.


An Ecuador hat

With Panama’s name,

Sombreros and porkpies to-go.

It doesn’t quite matter,

As long as you claim,

Your hat from Le Bistro Chapeau.





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