Hairmare

I could not help but stand and stare

Because I just don’t like my hair

Had the man gone raving mad

With those bloomin’ tools he had

Once I was seated in that chair

He glanced at me without a care

Fool was I to think he’d know

Just how far with scissors to go

Now I look an awful sight

Some might even say a fright

Coconuts belong up in a tree

Not gracing top of head of me

You a hairdresser? That’s a laugh

My day’s spent going out in scarf

As for training, how can this be?

Some kind of sheep farm probably

Thanks for nothing ‘Sweeny Todd’

To me you’re just a wicked sod!

So when my hair returns for sure

I’ll run a mile from the salon’s door.

By Sandra Witham

Copyright 2006 – All Rights Reserved