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Rated: E · Poetry · Writing · #1074673
A poem. You might like it... you might not.
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.
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