I'll never forget the time sat upon my Grandfather's knee, being warmed by the hearth.He told me the yarn of old Jacks hat whilst sipping a cup of sweet tea...
The chum's and I down at the Old Bicycle and Pump always looked forward to the last Sunday of the month, when old Jack would please and
to amaze us with one of his curious hats.
A quiet man with a beard like silky snow,"Oh how he liked the ale to flow"
We remembered the time a rabbit escaped from a trap in his cap.A chicken running, flapping and pecking, the patrons chasing, skidding and clapping and that was that.
Tonight was special, the Inn was warm, all of our friends they were forewarned.
In came old Jack, steady as can be, wearing a blue top hat.He was careful to please.
He sat at the bar with his name on the chair, scratched his ear and everybody stared.
Old Jack's hat started to {{tremble}}
The top of his hat started to open...."Oh not the chickens" they cried, one person screamed "that's enough of that".
Slowly rising high, a small barrel organ arised.
We stared, we glared as the tiny barrel organ turned its handle, sat upon old Jack's hat.
The music played, we laughed, some prayed.Old Jack arose his arm into the air...Wavered it as to stop a prayer.
The lights went dim..We watched the barrel organ spin, and as if by magic the top hat sparkled and glistened.
Young Bob, curious with thought, approached old Jack for reasons to be sought.
Old Jack, he lifted his hat to explain that 'Bubble and Squeak' were responsible for that.
We all peered and pondered as we looked into old jack's hat.
Bubble and Squeak were running on two wheels within this hat.Two little white mice, how happy they are.
Old Jack explained, "I pop a piece of nice cheese through the bottom of my hat..Bubble and Squeak they run to get some of that"
As they run, the dynamo hums charging the lights and making the barrel organ run.