He looked in the mirror this morning; he finally had to admit;
He hadn’t a lot of hair left; In fact there was only a bit.
Once, it was thick; and wavy, he could comb it back in a D.A.
At twenty seven he combed it forward, as it was then it started fading away.
Nobody seemed to notice; as the Beetles were then all the rage,
He just said ‘I have changed my image; to look like those blokes on the stage.
When it started to get a lot thinner, he was getting worried; it’s true.
So he combed it up from the nape of his neck; it’s the only thing he could do.
Then the day arrived when his cover was blown, the wind was really high;
It lifted his waves up and down on his head, and they looked like they were waving goodbye.
He heard of a new cure for baldness. They said rub chicken muck in your head;
He didn’t do the full course of treatment, as the wife would not let him in bed.
Now he’s shaven the fuzzy bits from his head, and refrained from wearing a vest;
And like those macho men in the movies, he now flashes the hair on his chest.