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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE JOURNEY ONWARDS by THOMAS MOORE TO MY CHILDREN: 3 by DOLLIE CAROLINE MAITLAND RADFORD THE CAT OF CATS by WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS CAVALRY CROSSING A FORD by WALT WHITMAN TO HIS MISTRESS; AN ODE by ANACREON SATIRE: 5 by AULUS PERSIUS FLACCUS THE LAST MAN: INSIGNIFICANCE OF THE WORLD by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |