Quote:
Originally Posted by BetterRed
...And the pubs are shuttered like the eyes of the fallen; so there's nowhere we can stand in circle to bet on the toss of two coins. Besides, gathering is banned, five at a wedding, ten at a funeral, is all we're allowed...
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But you Guys and Gals over there
Can go to the barber or hairdresser dear
Closed for us 4 weeks from tonight
I always cut my own, a mirror image fright
But here is a "proper" poem by Bernard Shaw, from me to the Ozs.
Haircut
The Barber came to cut my hair,
I told him that it wasn't fair.
My hair had done him no harm,
Without it I would loose my charm.
The Barber he grinned a silly grin,
Said to cut my hair would be no sin.
That I should face it like a man,
But I'm a coward and away I ran.
Do you like sitting in a Barbers chair,
With him chopping away your lovely hair.
Once my head was full of curls,
Covering my face with twisty twirls.
But then the Barber came my way,
I was a child, I had no say.
Off came my curls one by one,
The Barber seemed to have great fun.
Now I'm old and very grey,
I'm nearly bald, my hairs gone away.
But when I see a Barbers chair,
I feel the loss of my curly hair.
You know I truly rue the day,
When that first Barber came my way.