My beard is one of distinction,
the only beard that I can caress
It started in Montevideo,
And now it’s just reaching its best.
Like Klaas our captain and skipper,
It’ll grow till it reaches my chest
And birds will fly all around it
and then they’ll use it to nest.
But in England lives my darling
and I always do what I’m told
So before I return the razor
Will make my face fresh but cold
My wife loves my face for some reason
But thinks my beard makes me look old
It is her clear perception
That my beard is nothing but mould.