Exqueeze me while I sing the tale
of facial hair gone tough as nails
When short, it chafes, when long it scares,
crepusculating facial hairs

Beware the chaf’d skin you suspect
of consequence in harm direct
by contact with the bristling 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,
emasculate the shaven-cheeked

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 hair arrives en-scéne
and, stubbly on a summ’ry day,
abrades a poor girl’s thighs away!

Enthusiating! Facial growth,
when unwisely left alone,
may force the call to stem or smote
by tough’ning—such as has been wrote!

Until at last, before the mirror,
doth 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!