Just Folks

The Blue Flannel Shirt

          I am eager once more to feel easy,
          I'm weary of thinking of dress;
          I'm heartily sick of stiff collars,
          And trousers the tailor must press.
          I'm eagerly waiting the glad days—
          When fashion will cease to assert
          What I must put on every morning—
          The days of the blue flannel shirt.

          I want to get out in the country
          And rest by the side of the lake;
          To go a few days without shaving,
          And give grim old custom the shake.
          A week's growth of whiskers, I'm thinking,
          At present my chin wouldn't hurt;
          And I'm yearning to don those old trousers
          And loaf in that blue flannel shirt.

          You can brag all you like of your fashions,
          The style of your cutaway coat;
          You can boast of your tailor-made raiment,
          And the collar that strangles your throat;
          But give me the old pair of trousers
          That seem to improve with the dirt,
          And let me get back to the comfort
          That's born of a blue flannel shirt.