MUSTACHES

Mustaches come in a variety of ways
Some date back to even prehistoric days
Just clinging to the lip or all over the chin
They adorn an otherwise ordinary grin

Next time at the mall or a barber shop
Take a minute or two to witness the crop
Of hairy caterpillars of every kind
Portraying the psychology of mankind

The Handlebar mustache with waxed tips
Serves to balance a pair of jumbo lips
And the Horseshoe shape is grown to draw
Attention away from a gigantic jaw

The Pencil-line mustache, you may perhaps loathe,
But the poor bloke hardly gets any growth
The Walrus mustache, on the other hand,
Is the result of a troublesome thyroid gland

And the droopy strands of the Fu Manchu
Must be for the practitioners of Kung Fu
And the square roots of the Chaplin era
Must be a comical outlet for the camera

Now to the colors, if I might add,
The real black ones aren't so bad
The red ones stand out, the browns are quiet
And the blonds must be put on a protein diet

As for the texture, each one is unique
The bristly ones need pruning once a week
The wiry must be twirled, waxing not needed
And the silky tend to mat if left unheeded

So there you have it, all said and done
Mustaches are certainly a lot of fun
I don't profess to be a mustache maven
After all, I'm just another clean-shaven