Thy beard
        thy hairy chest
whence once
         waxed I loved
thy forehead now
          one eyebrow dense.
Thy woven nest
          so thick a moss a forest
so numerous, I can not
          see the trees.
Thy scisssors and razor broke
          No Nair nor candle left,
I can no longer tend you.
      
I have weaved those armpits for
the last time,
you need
a riding mower.