Scarcely scraping a hair in our downy estate,
The High-Mettled Razor first ranks among plate.
The next ten years turn out, and we need not now blush,
To be caught when we're soaping our beard with a brush;
For we have one at length, and we need not say nay,
Should any one ask if we shave every day.
While alike born for scrapes in our life's daily course,
Always sure to come through with a cut, if not worse;
When we're barely shaved down just to what Fashion saith,
The High-Mettled Razor now bores us to death.