Balding – a poem

(sing it to the tune of: “Blowing in the Wind”)

How many times can I have a new transplant?

            And watch when it falls out again?

How many creams can I rub into my scalp?

            To keep it from shining in the sun.

What can I do to improve my visage?

            Allowing me to start having fun?

                        The problem, you see, is

                        There is no hair on me;

                        It’s falling out since I was ten and three.

Resting on the sink are my brushes and combs

            Inspected and laid out every day,

The widest in variety that you have ever seen

            I keep them clean and well prepared to play

To shape that bit of tuft that hangs over my ears;

            An arsenal that mocks as if to say –

                        “There’s nothing to arrange,

                        All your actions are so strange”

                        Get a rug to cover all that barren plain.

I’ve got some toupees colored brown or blond or black

            Depending upon whom I will be with,

My cousin gave to me a new wide and furry hat

            Thinking that would make a welcome gift,

Another sent me polish so the dome would shine more bright

            Suggesting that my head could use a lift;

                        But the truth I must accept

                        That what you are is what you get,

                        I’ve the fastest drying head when it gets wet.

How many times can I have a new transplant?

            And watch when it falls out again?

How many creams can I rub into my scalp?

            To keep it from shining in the sun.

What can I do to improve my visage?

            Allowing me to start having fun?

                        The problem, you see, is

                        There is no hair on me;

                        It’s falling out since I was ten and three.

Resting on the sink are my brushes and combs

            Inspected and laid out every day,

The widest in variety that you have ever seen

            I keep them clean and well prepared to play

To shape that bit of tuft that hangs over my ears;

            An arsenal that mocks as if to say –

                        “There’s nothing to arrange,

                        All your actions are so strange”

                        Get a rug to cover all that barren plain.

I’ve got some toupees colored brown or blond or black

            Depending upon whom I will be with,

My cousin gave to me a new wide and furry hat

            Thinking that would make a welcome gift,

Another sent me polish so the dome would shine more bright

            Suggesting that my head could use a lift;

                        But the truth I must accept

                        That what you are is what you get,

                        I’ve the fastest drying head when it gets wet.