Baldness is a mark of men
With high testosterone.
A symbol that his hormones rage;
The science is well-known.
Baldness is a sign that he
Is confident and proud
To walk the streets without a care
With all that he’s allowed.
Shiny like a billiard ball,
All glistening in the sun.
Blinding those who dare to mock
This potent, hair-free gun.
Baldness is a funny thing
That children find quite weird.
Especially when underlined
With compensating beard.
“Fuck me, his head’s upside down!”
They sometimes shout at me.
But proudly I ignore their chants
And hide behind a tree.
“Quick, the freak is running off”
I hear them shout as one.
But I’m not scared, I’m alpha-male;
I piss myself and run.
The wind flows through my tousled mane
(The one upon my back).
Remaining hair grows everywhere,
From nose down to my sack.
They finally catch up with me
And beat me ’til I cry.
That’s hormones running wild and free
And spilling out my eyes.
Aggression spills from every pore,
I’m leaking liquid strength.
“He pissed himself again” and so,
I keep the boys at length.
So bald man stands, his head held high
And flees the lads of eight.
Machismo saved, he says that they’re
Just jealous of his pate.
Baldness is a sign that from
The virile beasts I come
And if you take the piss then I
Shall run and tell my mum.