A poem. You might like it... you might not.
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Not Quite A Slaphead On the day that we met I was youthful. I had hair on the day that we met. Now my hair is receding Just like the dawn tide, But I'm not quite a slaphead just yet. No, not quite a slaphead just yet! You could call me folicley challenged. You might tell me, my comb, to forget. You might buy me a duster To polish my dome, But I'm not quite a slaphead just yet. No, not quite a slaphead just yet. The days of my full perms are over. Never-no--more a shampoo and set. And I say to my barber "Just a number one" 'Cause I'm not quite a slaphead just yet. No, not quite a slaphead just yet! We pray to the great god of 'Oh-comb-across' We pray and we plead 'til we bleed! We recover our barnet's with syrup o' figs. But I'm not quite a slaphead just yet. No, not quite a slaphead just yet. I'm still not as bald as a baby. I still have locks dans la tet. Alright, so there ain't that many, But I'm not quite a slaphead just yet, No, not quite a slaphead just yet! On the day that we met I was youthful. I had hair on the day that we met. Now my hair is receding Just like the dawn tide, But I'm not quite a slaphead just yet. |