Love is hairy
stubbly stuff
shave all week
it’s never enough

whether I shave it
or slather on Nair
whack it or hack it
will always be there

keeps coming back
as much as you crop it
waxing and chemicals
can’t even stop it

try to ignore it
the nubs comes in thick
even my eyebrows..
a uni-brow chick!

come Saturday
we don’t hardly care
let it grow out
of our underwear

Leave it alone
that unruly mop
looks like we got us
a nice bumper crop

this is my way
I ain’t gonna change
my love and my hair
But we're looking deranged

Sitting there pondering
love and love's looks
flippin’ through Cosmo
and schmaltzy old books

Beauty is bare in my favorite rag
Nary a hairy or haggard old nag
Eyebrows are separate and carefully arched
Lips are injected and and never seem parched.

Legs are butt smooth,
and so are are the pits
Love is not given to hairy chick fits

(speaking of nares,
mine is exempt
the nose and the ears
are extremely well kempt.)

Sunday mornin’
rolls around
but his razor
can’t be found

I call out his name
and wait for an answer
his ditty bag’s gone
could It be that dancer?

The one that he watches
the one he admires
could she be the one
whose igniting his fires?

I’ve seen her there waiting
the picture of grace
smooth, fair and agile
not a hair out of place

I sit on the edge of the tub
shocked and numb
look in the mirror
then look at my thumb

I eye up the woman
whose not spent a dime
on personal pleasures
as though it’s a crime

My overgrown garden
could not see the light
missed out on the sweetness
bare skin’s delight

Bought into myth
and every girls hope
that she’d still be worth something
without any soap

Rummaged around in
a drawer feeling sick
through my tears
I lay hold of
my old Lady Bic

Slipped into the shower
convinced he despised me
lathered and cried
none of this has surprised me

he'd seemed a bit distant
preoccupied,
the more I persisted
the less satisfied

i should have considered
my love is not blind
that his eyes are like sponges
and his vision will find

the best of the beauties
the cream of the crop
as sweet sugar blossoms
parade past his shop

I have an epiphony
there in the suds
now that I'm pruned
my lucious skin buds

today will be different
a vision in pinks
mandarin china doll
satin soft minx

When into my steamy retreat
disconcerted
the voice of the man
I was sure had deserted

I silence my heart
and put down the Bic
ease back the curtain
and see my St. Nick

the hairy faced heathen
battered and worn
face kind of prickly
needs to be shorn

“What is THIS?” he demands
and holds out his hand
"Why, a worn out old mach 3,
the triple edge brand!"

"‘I just CHANGED this blade
and the thing's dull and rusted!!”
“Heck if I know”
but I know I’ve been busted.

Step out of the shower
bare skin drippin wet
‘At this rate
I think I’ll buy stock in Gillette.”

I hold out my bic
and smile at old Bones
‘would you like me to light
your cigar, Mr.Jones?”

Leave him to his business
which won’t include the shave
Love is stubbly, love is soft
and hairy to the grave.