Exqueeze me whilst I sing the tale
of facial hair gone tough as nails.
When short, it chafes, when long it scares,
crepusculating facial hairs.
Beware the chafed skin you suspect
of consequence in harm direct
of roughshod concourse with the necks
of neck-beards come to wreak their heck!

Do I detect, this sullen morn,
a loathsome beastly beard is born,
to aggravate, and for a week,
impeturbate the shaven-cheek’d
and terrorize the newly shorn
with skin smooth as a baby born
and terror in their widening eyes,
as chafes, it does, their inner thighs?

O!

Gentle on a summer’s eve,
till facial hairs arrive en-scéne
and, stubbly on a summ’ry day,
abrade a poor girl’s thighs away!
Enbarbatating facial growth,
when unwisely left alone,
may force a call to stem or smote
by tough’ning, such as has been wrote!

Until at last, before the mirror,
does man aspire to tame the terror,
and let his other cheek be turned
to run the risk of razor burn.
Clean-shaven, then, he may, assured
return anon to that demurred,
and, silky-smooth with after-shave,
go cheek to cheek, and…

O! Behave!