Sir Guy: The Rightful Hair

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Sir Guy: The Rightful Hair

A lighthearted little homage to Sir Guy's tresses . . . and a little dig at our "hero."

Sir Guy, dear Guy, I love your hair;

Sometimes it seems to be unfair

For the villain of the piece to be so blessed

While the hero is rather-scantily--tressed.

Oh, some may jest at your mullet medieval

with its cluster of lush raven curls;

Or at your floppy Guy locks,

their derisive, dismissive howls, hurl!

But surely none can deny the power of the Angsty Guy Mane

Those long, unkempt jetty locks, so wild and untamed,

Never have lank and greasy been quite so-fetching,

And the glory of Glamour Guy-aah, makes our hearts sing!

Oh, yes, you work it, that amazing mane,

First as a curtain to hide your deep shame,

Then as an arrogant, proud dark stallion stamping its feet;

Is it any wonder watching you, I always feel such-heat?

And meanwhile, your nemesis, what of he?

His receding hairline, we now clearly see.

Sweaty combat reveals his balding pate,

Makes us understand why you he hates.

For you have the hair, the teeth, the physique;

"But I am the HERO!" he cries in a fit of pique--

And clutches his locks in full-blown despair,

Oops-watch out! More comb-over needed there.

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