st09swas14Haircut

HAIRCUT (Sung to the tune of London  Bridge is Falling Down) Scissors flying ‘round my head, High and tight, short and close. Snip one, pull one, there it goes, Ear is bleeding! Trimmers buzzing like a bee, Busy hands, flying hair. Crumbs upon the barber’s chair. I feel itchy! Here the brush comes ‘round my neck. What the heck? Powder clouds. Pay the barber. Mom is proud. I feel sneezy!