His head and his body were Bald as an egg for all to see. His parents named him Harry But he did not turn out to be. As an antonymic masterpiece His name is rife with humor But in poor Harry’s opinion It was taken as a social tumor.
Every joke that would be said, No matter how crass was made At work, at play by everyone Beginning in the seventh grade When his baby fine blond hair Began to hide on back of head. It hurt his feelings to frequently hear The things his peers all said.
By the time he reached maturity He learned to accept his fate; Everyday friends could not resist Making light of his name and pate! While it’s human nature all of this It’s a constantly rather bitter pill, And though he learned to smile It kind of hurts his feelings still.
Bare Harry, bald as a shaved baby. Plenty of tacky hairless jokes to spare Shouldn’t we cut him some slack maybe And focus on something besides his hair Or the obvious lack thereof on his head And point out his forgiving personality? But sadly, that is just not the way Of the reality of the world’s humanity.