There is these days,
A trend in the young ones,
A practice, I hear,
To clean shave the nethers,
For reasons, I guess,
To look all of eight,
And not just in women,
For reasons I cannot fathom,
(Few want the turkey neck
if served at Thanksgiving.)
Is this just simply,
A form of rebellion?
"The Boomers rebelled,
And we know we can too!"
To overthrow ancient,
Injustice and evil,
They take up the razor,
and shave places private,
Then talk about it,
(and giggle loudly)
When drinking odd coffees,
In a crowded shop,
"Take that Establishment!
My short hairs have been shorn,
To accent my tattoo,
And show off my piercing."
I guess I'm the Old Man,
Who just doesn't "get it",
The idea of razor burn,
In some parts sounds bad.
(No, I'm not waxing or
Chemically Treating.)
I really don't care,
One way or the other,
If young punks don't mind,
Sharp blades on their lowers,
But I've always liked,
Women to be womanly,
Primal to stoke,
My primitive fires.
Ah, but times change,
And fashions change with them,
This shaving is just,
The fashion of the day.
The daughters of the Millenials,
Will get back to nature,
And twenty years hence,
I'm the old man they'll date.
