My true friend hath my hat

My true friend hath my hat, and I have his,

By choice of mine, one for another changed;

I hold his dear, and mine he'd never miss,

There never was a better swop arranged:

My true friend hath my hat, and I have his.

His hat on me saves me the price of one;

My hat on him his foolish head hath guyed;

He hates my hat, he much prefers his own,

I cherish his, my bald patch it doth hide:

My true friend hath my hat, and I have his.