A Word To The Wise, Guys
How I Lost Then Regained Paradise and Learned to Love John Milton's Epics Through an Ogden Nash Perspective.

Paul Molyneux

I'm cursed with a life-long proclivity
(Which doesn't take much creativity)
To cover cheeks, bare
With profuse facial hair.
(An ageless distinguished activity)

One morning I made the decision
To make my appearance revision.
I pressed my face nearer
The old bathroom mirror,
My new look to better envision.

And then, as my senses were cleared
I went straight to do what I most feared.
I went to my wife,
The love of my life,
And said, "Honey, I'm growing a beard."

My dear one sat straight up in bed
Shook her head, rolled her eyes back and said,
"Do you think you can muster
A much denser cluster
Than what you have grown on your head?"

"Don't worry," I said in a flash,
"Don't get yourself all in a rash.
The decision's my own.
My beard will be grown
Complete with a well-groomed mustache."

She wanted no part of caressing-
So I turned 'round and started my dressing.
Her mocking laugh rose
As I put on my clothes.
It really was kind of depressing.

The next day, I faced without fear,
But my wife, she continued to jeer.
"If you keep that stubble
There's gonna be trouble,"
She made herself perfectly clear.

That night, when it came time for bed,
Something happened that made me see red.
"That wiry thatch
Will ne'er my face scratch.
You can sleep on the sofa instead."

Life had never been bleak and forlorn
When I'd kept my face properly shorn.
I resolved to endure.
I was perfectly sure
She would mellow some wonderful morn.

A month had elapsed in this ditty.
No more wretched man lived in the city.
My beard flowed with curls
Which I combed out in swirls.
"It's much softer, dear. Have some pity!"

"Forget it," she shot in reply.
"Just shut up and don't even try
To make me give in
To that stuff on your chin.
I'll do it when billygoats fly!"

She continued to spout off and holler
As she tossed me a brand new flea collar.
"You can't be well-groomed
With your breakfast entombed
'Neath your chin. You can bet your last dollar!"

I glazed over in one grand blue funk.
My performance at work really stunk.
"This thing's gotta cease.
I need some peace
Not to mention a change in my bunk!"

My nerves were all shattered and spent.
My life was all tattered and rent.
"I don't need the flak.
I want my wife back.
I am broken. I want to repent!"

So into the bathroom I flew
To rectify life so askew.
I drenched it with lather,
My precious wool-gather,
And scraped it off, steady and true.

My wife squealed, as I rightly assumed,
and said, "Now that you're properly groomed
I'll kiss you and hug you
And never more bug you.
You're ready to be re-bedroomed!"

Now this is the end of my story-
How I lost and regained all my glory.
Here's a word to the wise
For all of you guys:
If you love your wife but you want to exercise your right to make a decision that she won't agree with, make sure it's something that really matters and isn't trivial like growing a beard because women are stronger than men when it comes to holding their ground and things will never become hunky-dory.


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