Bereft my barnet be, of flowing locks
As medicos hath cropped within an inch
In thanks, should ‘Bless their little cotton socks’
For cost of Barber makes one feel the pinch
Amidst the crowded throng of life outdoors
Sensed nervousness of one who fears to tread
Tis obvious to those whose hair restores
Self consciousness hath now raised ugly head
If cap doth fit; suppose twud be au-fait
To don disguise and sally forth (so proud)
Perhance a ‘Beanie’ or indeed ‘Beret’
An old ‘Tea Cosy’ may prove tad too loud
My choice of type to wear conceals (Forsooth)
Yet ‘doffing’ same to all reveals the truth