Poetry

A gentleman’s hair

Fear not, dear lady,  for I do declare

that is not a rat, just a mound of hair!

 

It escaped from beneath my top hat,

and now, if you’ll excuse me, I shall be taking it back.

 

Dear sir, perhaps I may enquire

as to why you hair fell towards my fire?

 

Is it perhaps one of those fancy toupées

that gentlemen such as yourself wear to conceal their true age?

 

Why, madam, I am affronted at such an accusation,

and must inform you such finely crafted hair has nothing to do with my generation.

 

I simply seek to add more fullness to my locks,

and if that does offend, I’m afraid I care not a jot.

 

 

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