Morning Meditation

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Every day of my life
I shave the beard from my chin,
Suppress the natural man,
Do my bit in the strife
To keep original sin
As much at bay as I can.

Day after day after day,
I wake and lather and scrape;
Looking myself in the eye
I grin at my image and say:
Look at the hairy ape
Wishing himself goodbye!

Grand-dad, he had a beard,
Randy old son of a gun!
Even when it was white
He, if a wench appeared,
Would roar to get her to run
And catch and cuddle her tight.

Father, too, had a black
Stubble upon his chin;
Every day of his life
With a hollow blade he would hack
At the natural man within—
He did it to pleasure his wife.

She was a handsome jade,
Black, undauntable eyes,
Snug bottom and well-turned calf;
When Father had stropped his blade,
He would reach between her thighs,
Pluck out a hair and laugh.

Then in his sixtieth year,
Seeing the black jowl hoar,
He lathered and gave a groan,
Took himself by the ear,
Picked up the blade once more,
And cut his throat to the bone.

Grandfather took his fun,
Rolled in all manner of hay;
Father could bell the cat
But died of seeing it done;
I keep the beast at bay
With a safety razor, at that!

Having no child or wife,
Sin or superfluous hair,
I live by the Golden Rule.
And every day of my life
I think of that sinful pair
And curse myself for a fool.

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