The fur that festoons his face/
Belongs in a different place/
Perhaps it’s a swatch/
That fled from his crotch/
To a climate more to its taste..///
Whoever this fellow is/
(It’s probably none of my biz)/
Whatever his shtick/
He’ll not find a chick/
With that pitiful mustache of his/
Despite his expression satanic/
We have simply no reason to panic/
No philosopher he/
He adopted plan B/
He’s a prosperous auto mechanic.
(Actually, it’s a self-Portrait)
The fur that festoons his face/
Belongs in a different place/
Perhaps it’s a swatch/
That fled from his crotch/
To a climate more to its taste..///
Whoever this fellow is/
(It’s probably none of my biz)/
Whatever his shtick/
He’ll not find a chick/
With that pitiful mustache of his/
Despite his expression satanic/
We have simply no reason to panic/
No philosopher he/
He adopted plan B/
He’s a prosperous auto mechanic.
(Actually, it’s a self-Portrait)