There isn’t a lot on your head
But you give it much thought
Your diminishing hair is what you dread
You used to have a decent mop
Now the mirror leaves you aghast
Among other things, there’s your potbelly
You can get rid of it if you run or walk fast
But what if folks say hey baldie?
So you use oils formulated painstakingly
Pop hair-growth pills of every complexion
But it’s only making your character greasy
And giving you erectile dysfunction
Your friends and you have a night on the town
You go to all these young-people’s places
You let your scanty hair down
And you come off as jackasses
It’s time again for a visit to the salon
You get your few strands styled and gelled
You tried a hair-piece but it fooled no one
You swear you’ll get a hair-transplant before you’re dead.