Let’s be honest, do you know anyone who doesn’t have problem hair? Of course not, and that’s because hair has a will of its own. To get tresses that are manageable, you need to start being very firm with them at the soonest opportunity, otherwise they’ll take advantage of you, as they did with Bill.
Bill was a boy with reckless hair,
That sprang out here and sprang out there.
It leapt and lunged, it streaked and swooped,
It coiled and curled and looped the loop.
It grew so thick, so long and wide,
That little creatures lived inside.
With tangled strands, wild as a bush,
It taunted every comb and brush
To try and tame it, make it neat –
The brushes soon declared defeat;
The combs’ attempts were also brief –
More than a dozen lost their teeth.
Its wayward mood rudely defied
Whatever products were applied,
And barbers wept that there should be
Defiant hair, so wild and free.
One barber cried, “Impudent mop!
You are not welcome in my shop!”
Poor Bill felt it was most unfair
To have such rowdy, wicked hair.
He threatened it and called it names,
He said it ought to feel ashamed.
But did it listen? Not a tad!
It carried on behaving mad,
And grew and grew like some deep wood,
Until Bill’s face was lost for good.
His arms were next and then his hands,
All hidden by the hair’s thick strands.
And further still the tresses grew,
Till legs and feet were lost from view,
And nothing could be seen at all
Except a boy sized, hairy ball.
His mum at last, out of despair,
Went running to the cellar where
She took a large electric saw,
And cut for several hours or more –
But not a trace was found of Bill;
And to this day, he’s missing still.
The lesson of this tale I’ve told
Is keep your hair under control;
And thus ensure your crowning glory
Doesn’t turn to horror story.