By: Cedric McClester

What is that **** on his head?
It’s his hair, or so he said
A gust of wind, put's that lie to bed
It’s a rabbit that’s long since been dead
He’s thinking it makes him look cool
I’m thinking he’s just an old fool
Who the Russians use like an old tool
I’m talking as a general rule

What is that **** on his head?
How much hairspray does it get fed
A can full somewhere I read
But it’s the fifth his barber has pled
If he were to get a haircut
He’d lose the dated look that he’s got
Which would put him in a real rut
Cos his image would go kaput

What is that **** on his head?
It’s dangerous ground on which I tread
But I’d rather do that instead
Of having the reader misled
Who came up with that style
They had to know all the while
That it would cause folks to smile
Just looking at the galvanic pile

What is that **** on his head?
To the birds, it might look like bread
Causing their closed wings to spread
When thinking let’s go and get fed
Then again it looks like a soufflé
That is boldly on full display
And I don’t care what you say
It needs to be taken away











Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017.  All rights reserved.