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My father is a handsome brute And he looks good in his swimming suit. I'll bet he still can run a mile. He has a nice engaging smile. Although his muscles are still there My dad has lost most of his hair. And in the privacy of home We all admire his shiny dome. While sunning on the crowded beach He always keeps his hat in reach. Whenever people look his way He pops that thing on right away. One night he came home looking scary. My, gosh, his head was really hairy. He proudly asked, "What do you say? My new toupee came in today!?" Although we thought the thing quite weird, We all said, "Great," then stood and cheered. So for that week he felt a winner And wore it to the potluck dinner. When all the people were in place The preacher started saying grace, "Bless us Jesus, if you please," And then my dad let out a sneeze There was his hair, all nice and wavy, Floating in the chicken gravy. Poor dad sat there without his hair, I knew he did not have a spare. The preacher kept praying, bless his soul, As I fished that critter from the bowl. As soon as "Amen" hit the air Dad bent and bolted from his chair. He had it cleaned and blocked and stuff But it was dead, it wouldn't fluff. And when he had it at its best It looked just like a big bird's nest. He dug a hole on our back lot And buried it beside old Spot. We bowed our heads as we stood there And gave the last rites for his hair. Now, Dad, this one thing must be said, "It's your choice how you wear your head. And though your hair may never part, We like the way you wear your heart."
--Grandpa Tucker |
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