Back To Shaving Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

For years I wore a beard, it's now turned rodent gray,
the revelation came; a friend who is quite gay
suggested time would show more kindness to the face
and folks would welcome me, back to the human race.

There was a glut of gadgets, fancy with their names,
and double, triple, quattro blades for gents and dames.
A badger brush, some said, it is a real plus
just to exfoliate and spread the foam and thus
look like a circus clown while flashing ruby lips
and having studied all the makers rules and tips.

Stand in the shower, man so said the poofter friend,
hair must be soft and willing and not stand on end,
he made no move to come and keep me company
perhaps he'd wait for me to finish, then he'd see.

The touch be soft and gentle said the little book,
the blade will find each little crevice and each nook,
this shaver has been made in Solingen, my man,
by German craftsmen and this means this razor can,
it is superior to the modern day Gillette,
to Schick and Wilkinson as well and you can bet
that so much money thrown to mediocre stuff
all to create your facial image in the buff.

So when you see the name spelled Merkur (say MurkOOr)
you load the blade inside its head, just making sure
that a loud click is heard to lock the cutter in
and then you start with gentle strokes, from cheek to chin.

Well, I must say that using tools that Grandpa praised
is just a trifle shocking and I am amazed
how old traditions are discarded without care
until the time arrives where someone might compare,
and see the error in our ways, the frantic haste.
Inside the greenhouse it's a policy of waste.