In the process of ridding my mustache of white
To pluck as many and bring black to sight
I had dug too many holes on that stretch
To present the mirror with a perfect wretch!
My missus smiled under her frown
Said, ‘you look the funniest man in town,
You could have dyed the hairs brown
And not made yourself an awful clown!
Fretting more by her pinching poke
Told her ‘it’s no time for a joke,
Help me clean up the mess a bit,
So I don’t become a laughing stock on the street’!
She quickly came up with a plan
A clever woman, she did it with élan
She dabbed her eyeliner on the mess
To restore me a presentable face!
But the story here didn’t come to a close
It yielded love’s another sweet disguise
Whole day I smelled her eyes in my nose
A strand of my mustache she bore in her eyes!