I used to do open mics in Columbus GA, USA. They were exactly that. There is nothing so odd ball, jarring or weird, then to hear all those folk songs, when no man has a beard Well the first guy's retired at 40 years old, from a media chain that his father has sold. Now he's a song writer, just passing the time. He sings bout his good life and drinks his fine wine The next guy's a singer in a praise band at church If he grew a beard, he'd be left in the lurch So he shaves in the evening, as neat as a pin When he meets ST. Peter he's sure to get in. There is nothing so odd ball, jarring or weird, then to hear all those folk songs, in a club with no beard Then there's the sargent from the fort down the way Singer by night and a soldier by day He will let it grow, when he's out on patrol But back here in town it is under control Then there is Amy, with the angelic face Her cultured coiffure has no hair out of place But take her to your place and your mind is a buzz For surrounding he chin is a white downy fuzz There is nothing so odd ball, jarring or weird, when the prettiest lady is the one with the beard
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