Of course entirely against one’s will.
It makes us rather wear the honest beard,
Than fly to barbers whom we know not of.
Thus custom makes Gorillas of us all;
Although we falter in our resolution,
As lathered over with best Windsor soap,
Expecting a severe cut every moment,
We contemplate our beard with jaundiced eye,
And so prepare for action—
Soft I vow—’tis done—Oh, feel here!