Hair Clock

In younger years my my hair was blonde
And golden in the light
I looked so sweet and innocent
An angel, day and night

Flares and paisley were the style
Platform shoes below
The sixties now were truly here
My hair began to grow

In schoolday years my hair was crude
And very like a mop
A beanpole I was in that time
A stick with straw on top

Punk was shaking up the world
The seventies arrived
Star Wars was a few years old
All Beatles still alive

And so I spiked the Mohawk up
A Goth I had become
A cool young man amongst my mates
A weirdo though to some

Quite soon we’d all live up in space
The eighties promised spoils
Though here on earth we still fought wars
For God or land or oil

A job now beckoned and my hair
Was normal and quite plain
Respectable and never shall
Be spiked up once again

The nineties saw my hair unchanged
A father I’d become
Outlandish was for someone else
Look normal for my son

Noughties through to twenty-twelve
I watched my hair recede
Still paying for a haircut
Of gel though I’d no need

The past few years my hair has thinned
And almost isn’t there
So cutting six or seven hairs
Is hardly worth the care

Last month I shaved the whole lot off
A kojak, bald on top
The barber hasn’t seen me since
As I avoid his shop

My kids have now begun to have
New kidlets of their own
And my outlandish days have almost
Definitely gone

Though maybe there are hairstyles
To try upon a whim
Though head hairs now have been replaced
With grey ones on my chin

And as I grow to later years
My hair will all be lost
With liver spots to take its place
All open to the frost

But as I look back on my life
And hairstyles I have had
I have to say in honesty
It hasn’t been half bad

I’ve loved and lost and loved again
And took life in my stride
My hair has always suited me
It showed the me inside

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