And swear that he badgers the Mob to submit to his badger.
Be that as it may—and his rivals do rail at him viciously—
If you require "a clean shave," rattled off expeditiously,
Lather that's fragrant and frothy, and steel that slides slickly,
Sit down in his chair, and he'll polish you off pretty quickly.
He's had two tough customers lately; a workman stiff-stubbled
(He looks at his gills in the glass with a glance slightly troubled),
And him the young yokel whose beard's like a big bed of thistles,
Who flops in the chair and demands to be shorn of his bristles.
To shave—against time—such a shag-beard as is this young rustic,