There was a man
There was a man with a golden crop.
Started to see, the growth he had did stop;
Over a few months he noticed as he did look,
A cricket pitch, was now he saw it over took.
There was a lady of almost 60, and in a mood,
She looked in the mirror, found her chin growing a brood;
She tried to pull each new hair till it came out,
But a few weeks later, two no three, new ones came about.
These two met for a cuppa, and a sweet,
And spoke of their problems on their seat;
She said to him why is it to me, such a bother,
I'll soon need to shave, I'm not a guy I'm a mother.
He agreed, and started to laugh, at the situation,
That he also had a problem, a hair complication;
Then she said why do you laugh, it's no joke you know,
But; soon saw why he thought it was fun, said o blow.
He said dear girl, as we get older, I'm losing my locks,
But you sweet ladies start growing a beard so why the knocks?
From the younger generation, that we see everywhere,
After all one day it'll happen to them as well, and see if we care.
poem by Margaret Haig
Added by Poetry Lover
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