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I'll Get One Tomorrow
Barber, barber, come and get me;
Hairy torrents irk and fret me.
Hair and hair again appears;
And climbs like ivy round my ears.
Hair across my collar gambols;
Down my neck it wayward ambles.
Ever down it trip it tickles;
Yes, where it trips it tickles.
Barber dear I wish I knew;
Why i do not visit you.
Why I grudge the minutes ten;
In your smiling den.
Why I choose to choke on hair;
Rather than to mount your chair.
Men no busier than I;
Weekly to your office hie.
Men no busier than myself;
Confront the armory on your shelf;
Men no wealthier than me;
Gladly meet your modest fee.
And for a fraction of a dollar;
Keep the jungle off their collar.
I alone am shy and flustered;
Solitary, cowardly custard.
Shaggy as a prize angore;
Overrun with the creeping flora.
Barber, barber, you’re in luck;
The bell has rung, the hour has struck.
Sloth strong, the hair is strong;
I cannot stand it any long.
Barber, barber here I come;
Shake up the odorous bay rum.
Bring on your shears your scythes, your snippers;
Bring on your crisp electric driers.
Employ a dozen extra sweepers;
Bring giant harvesters and reapers.
I warn you a bumper crop;
Waits to overwhelm your shop.
Braber, barber, be verbose;
Be anything but clip me close.
Leave me razored, leave me scissored
Leave me hairless, as a lizard;
Barber, barber, single and scald;
Barber can’t you make me bald?
I will be the happiest of men;
And never think of you again.
poem by Ogden Nash
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Haircut.
The Barber came to cut my hair,
I told him that it wasn't fair.
My hair had done him no harm,
Without it I would loose my charm.
The Barber he grinned a silly grin,
Said to cut my hair would be no sin.
That I should face it like a man,
But I'm a coward and away I ran.
Do you like sitting in a Barbers chair,
With him chopping away your lovely hair.
Once my head was full of curls,
Covering my face with twisty twirls.
But then the Barber came my way,
I was a child, I had no say.
Off came my curls one by one,
The Barber seemed to have great fun.
Now I'm old and very grey,
I'm nearly bald, my hairs gone away.
But when I see a Barbers chair,
I feel the loss of my curly hair.
You know I truly rue the day,
When that first Barber came my way.
poem by Bernard Shaw
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This Morning At The Barbershop
This morning at the barbershop,
a barber is busy with the hair
of a much older grey haired man
that he is trimming neatly
and a young man
sits in one of the barber’s chairs.
When I sit down to wait
the young man rises
turning to me
and asks if he can cut my hair.
I was happy to get attention immediately
while the other barber was finishing
with the older man,
as he looks to finely tuned to me.
My hair was smartly cut
with a pair of scissors
and the young barber
held his fingers
to determine the length
and I wanted it shorter
than just cutting off the ends
while the other barber
first took a hair blower
from a drawer,
sprayed something over his own hair
before he started to blow it in the mirror
and he then said
that he cannot go
to the bank to wait in line
with a head looking like Tut’s ass
and I saw my locks
falling dark brown
with dots of grey around me
and saw the other barber
combing his long hair
and smiled at myself
about the vanity of humanity
while I looked at myself
and were starting to look much better.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Who shears the sheep's head will live a couple of days, who shears its tail will live a hundred years.
A Birthday
THE three Fates sat in a house of birth,
Ah, well a day; ah, well a day;
Their eyes were bright, but not with mirth—
They have no love for the sons of earth—
And their lips were parched and gray.
5
Their gray locks hung from brow to chin,
Ah, well a day; ah, well a day;
One held the distaff, and one did spin,
And one held shears in her fingers thin;
Three silent hags were they.
10
We saw not the thread which the sisters spun,
Ah, well a day; ah, well a day;
Nor whether in white or in black begun,
But on her with the shears, that elder one,
Our eyes were fixed alway.
15
A thread, I ween, of tangled years,
Ah, well a day; ah, well a day;
God stay her hand that holds the shears;
Our hopes are stronger than our fears
For the bud upon life's spray.
20
poem by Frederick George Scott
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The Discontented Manicure Scissors
Said the manicure scissors one day,
'The shears always have their own way,
And I think it absurd
That I am deterred
From entering into life's fray.
My task might be jolly for snails,
But I must confess that it fails
To give pleasure to me;
I am sick as can be
Of snipping the ends of pink nails.
I want to do work like the shears!'
So the scissors set out it appears,
And very much wroth
They tried to cut cloth,
And so split themselves open, my dears.
And the cloth, well you should have seen that;
It looked as if gnawed by a rat.
Now little folks, you
Must not think you can do
Whatever your elders are at.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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This is Red Barber speaking. Let me say hello to you all.
quote by Red Barber
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Barber
I'd like to be a barber, and learn to shave and clip,
Calling out, 'Next please! and pocketing my tip.'
All day I'd hear my scissors going, 'Snip, Snip, Snip;'
I'd lather people's faces, and their noses I would grip
While I shaved most carefully along the upper lip.
But I wouldn't be a barber if ...
The razor was to slip.
Would you?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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~Reconciliation~
A black woman migrates to Europe
War devastated Germany in she finds a tolerant white widower to cope
Years some later a mulatto is born with arrear
Unluckily the newborn not so towards white but usual spirally knotted hair
She grows up and gets because of her white father´s repute a government job
Ego came out spontaneous in black aggression as corn on the cob
Her work by job agency comes mostly foreigners for demonstrations
Majority a jobless black immigrant who has not the lucky touch of Midas parentage in confrontations
She looks of blacks down and she herself is black
When asked to justify says she is more white hidden traits back
She repeats her satisfaction from day to day
Until she went to a white german barber for hair trim and foam some day
Your hair is another says the white old barber woman
I have no experience and i cut not those hairs as talisman
Go to a black barber she added
They understand more your hair as they the same headed
Parlez-Vous Francais?
Caesar, the amplifier voice, announces
Crime and reparation. In the barber shop
Recumbent men attend, while absently
The barber doffs the naked face with cream.
Caesar proposes, Caesar promises
Pride, justice, and the sun
Brilliant and strong on everyone,
Speeding one hundred miles an hour across the land:
Caesar declares the will. The barber firmly
Planes the stubble with a steady hand,
While all in barber chairs reclining,
In wet white faces, fully understand
Good and evil, who is Gentile, weakness and command.
And now who enters quietly? Who is this one
Shy, pale, and quite abstracted? Who is he?
It is the writer merely, with a three-day beard,
His tiredness not evident. He wears no tie.
And now he hears his enemy and trembles,
Resolving, speaks: "Ecoutez! La plupart des hommes
Vivent des vies de desespoir silenciuex,
Victimes des intentions innombrables. Et ca
Cet homme sait bien. Les mots de cette voix sont
Des songes et des mensonges. Il prend choix,
Il prend la volonte, il porte la fin d'ete.
La guerre. Ecoutez-moi! Il porte la mort."
He stands there speaking and they laugh to hear
Rage and excitement from the foreigner.
poem by Delmore Schwartz
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Barber's Shop
Conversations in a barber's shop,
And like a clay tile in the land of your muse;
But walk upon it and tell me how you feel,
And like the state of the mind and the state of the things around us;
But, i will always love you.
The wheels,
The colour of beryl,
And of the same likeness!!
But to be designed like abarber's shop in your township;
For, one wheel was inside heother wheel,
And to be designed like the fruit of love was the nature of things!
All the same, we all need the barber's shop.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Goin' Home
(Antonin Dvorak)
arr. Ken Colyer
(Lead out with Chris Barber on trombone)
Goin' home, he's goin' home
He'll be leavin', leavin' here today
Well if he don't leave now
Won't be goin' nowhere
Well home is where the heart is
Then my home's in New Orleans
Take me to that land of dreams
Lord, and if I don't leave now
I won't be goin' nowhere, nowhere
Goin' home
He's goin' home (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Yeah he leaving, leaving here today
Well if he don't go now
I won't be goin' nowhere
(Instrumental- piano)
Welcome to Dr. John
(Instrumental- horn)
Go to Chris Barber on Trombone, Chris Barber
What you say
And what you do
Well it's times like that, then I'm tellin' you
Well if you don't leave now
I won't be goin' nowhere (nowhere, nowhere, said nowhere) Lord
And if I don't leave now, I won't be goin' nowhere
Yeah but don't leave now
I won't be goin' nowhere
(woo, yeah) yeah...
(Transcribed by ear; corrections requested and welcomed!)
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The statesman shears the sheep; the politician skins them.
quote by Austin O'Malley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It resembles a pair of shears, so joined that they cannot be separated, often moving in opposite directions, yet always punishing anyone who comes between them.
quote by Sydney Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marriage resembles a pair of shears, so joined that they cannot be separated; often moving in opposite directions, yet always punishing anyone who comes between them.
quote by Sydney Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marriage resembles a pair of shears, so jointed that they cannot be separated often moving in opposite directions, yet always punishing anyone who comes between them.
quote by Logan Pearsall Smith
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Going Home
(lead out with chris barber on trombone)
Goin home, hes goin home
Hell be leavin, leavin here today
Well if he dont leave now
Wont be goin nowhere
Well home is where the heart is
Then my homes in new orleans
Take me to that land of dreams
Lord, and if I dont leave now
I wont be goin nowhere, nowhere
Goin home
Hes goin home (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Yeah he leaving, leaving here today
Well if he dont go now
I wont be goin nowhere
(instrumental- piano)
Welcome to dr. john
(instrumental- horn)
Go to chris barber on trombone, chris barber
What you say
And what you do
Well its times like that, then Im tellin you
Well if you dont leave now
I wont be goin nowhere (nowhere, nowhere, said nowhere) lord
And if I dont leave now, I wont be goin nowhere
Yeah but dont leave now
I wont be goin nowhere
(woo, yeah) yeah...
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I want to be a writer someday.
quote by Andrea Barber
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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