Tubthumper
12-Sep-07, 22:55
I pondered yesterday about just how, and why, and where
I’m facing growing up and growing out, growing older
And whilst in younger days, I truly did not have a care
I realise anomaly; what’s the deal about my hair?
Where once upon my brow was such a woolly golden mop
Is now expanse of naked scalp with a little tuft on top
There’s plenty at the back, above there’s just a little drop
I aim to brush it backwards but just where does forehead stop?
And while the top of head is simply waving in the breeze
My nose has grown a bush inside, which makes me want to sneeze
On viewing up my nostril, looks as if it’s full of trees
I pulled one out, three inches long, while screaming ‘Oh No, Please!’
And then there’s shaving every day, the horrid curse of man
I sometimes think that I would like Gillette to have a ban
On selling razors to the blokes; since manhood first began
I swear Wilkinson Sword company’s been run by a woman
So there is less each day upon the top part of my head
And meanwhile there’s another thing of which I live in dread
The hair on back and shoulders, very sexy it is said
But agonising painful when they get pulled out in bed
And going further down there’s problems round about my chest
I didn’t used to mind a few upon my muscled breast
But now man-boobs are manifest, my pecs just ain’t the best
Like mountains in a forest, little nipples at the crest
Down further yet, more problems with the hair to my dismay
Suppose it’s both the years and miles, the price we have to pay
But tell me why my undercart is turning swiftly grey
(I look a bit like Willy Nelson in parts, by the way)
So hair on head departs with age, a man’s defoliation
While hair on other parts grows thick, fills every destination
But if it’s due to Mr Newton’s force of gravitation
By the time I reach 100, feet will need deforestation
I’m facing growing up and growing out, growing older
And whilst in younger days, I truly did not have a care
I realise anomaly; what’s the deal about my hair?
Where once upon my brow was such a woolly golden mop
Is now expanse of naked scalp with a little tuft on top
There’s plenty at the back, above there’s just a little drop
I aim to brush it backwards but just where does forehead stop?
And while the top of head is simply waving in the breeze
My nose has grown a bush inside, which makes me want to sneeze
On viewing up my nostril, looks as if it’s full of trees
I pulled one out, three inches long, while screaming ‘Oh No, Please!’
And then there’s shaving every day, the horrid curse of man
I sometimes think that I would like Gillette to have a ban
On selling razors to the blokes; since manhood first began
I swear Wilkinson Sword company’s been run by a woman
So there is less each day upon the top part of my head
And meanwhile there’s another thing of which I live in dread
The hair on back and shoulders, very sexy it is said
But agonising painful when they get pulled out in bed
And going further down there’s problems round about my chest
I didn’t used to mind a few upon my muscled breast
But now man-boobs are manifest, my pecs just ain’t the best
Like mountains in a forest, little nipples at the crest
Down further yet, more problems with the hair to my dismay
Suppose it’s both the years and miles, the price we have to pay
But tell me why my undercart is turning swiftly grey
(I look a bit like Willy Nelson in parts, by the way)
So hair on head departs with age, a man’s defoliation
While hair on other parts grows thick, fills every destination
But if it’s due to Mr Newton’s force of gravitation
By the time I reach 100, feet will need deforestation