Old Shaky

He's famous for miles around,
The only barber in this town.
Gives haircuts to men and boys
Sometimes even to those other-wise.

Has a method that few can match
As he stands by his chair, and hair attacks.
With two pair of clippers he joins the battle
Shearing heads like so many cattle.

Strange he never ask the way
You'd like it done. As if to say,
'I know just how you like it.'
Then he gets about it.

Cutting here and there
Clippers buzzing in the ear.
Then as quick as he started,
With a brush and comb the hair's parted.

A flick of the sheet that serves so well
To protect the customer from the hair that fell.
Trimmings piled high on the flour
Later, to be swept out the door.

Shaky's finished with you
And others are waiting too.
So it's time to pay
And be on your way.

It's only after your timely visit,
You wonder how is it,
That he cuts your's and other's hair
Without a thought or care.

Then as you pass down the street,
And if by chance are to meet,
Another one from his emporium
You discover your style, is on another's cranium.

All are alike in the 'Shaky' style
That stays with you for quite a while,
Until you're ready for another visit
To the tonsorial shearing pit.

READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS OF THE POEM