our specie grew the folicle
as natures gift ungleaned
Yet portraits of Adam
show him smoothly tandem
with a bare legged Eve
Like prepubescent children
the riblet and the virgin
have no hairs to be seen
Yes, shaving is a bother
My face aint no mother
in a pseudo lesbians dream
Still to please my lover
my oh so significant other
I bought the shaving cream
Neath the floursecent ocean
I look among the potions
for blades to scrape me clean
Now schick has a quattro
just like the Audi auto
with a handle 'electric green'
It sends electric tingles
to smooth out any wrinkles
under your bushy screen
I'm glad its not a vasectomy
or a needed appendectomy
that requires a blade so keen
Because my petrified testicle
would shrink from the spectacle
of applying shaving cream
My lady is no virgin
thus I don't require her version
of legs like smooth sateen
It makes my eyebrows furrow
with eunuch like rehearsal
of a turkish harem scene
I begin with a sideburn
then grin like a wyvern
at the apparition facing me
Then in rabid areosol
Like Cujo frothing maniacal
my face is custard creme
I love the smell of shaving balm
in the morning says Colonel Napalm
in this apocalyptic scene
No more the pagan image
with biker looking visage
but a cherubic and gentle being
Oh you look so handsome
says my lady of the hairy ransom
and invites me to stand and preen
But then a day later
the folicles of my maker
re-appear upon the scene
The resurrected folicle
with horns and tail diabolical
still live within my being
