The Department of Men who have Beards.
I know some men who work for a firm,
When I tell you of them I know you will squirm,
They work high in a building
Where they report
The floor they work on? I think it’s the fourth.
These men I know are so well revered
They work for the department of men who have beards.
Each one bedecked in the finest of suits
Impeccably dressed, wildly hirsute
From Monday to Friday they will gather as one
And reflect on their business and what needs to be done.
Some say they are brigands and men to be feared
Those in the department of men who have beards
Others will say they are men of good stealth
Who meet on a Tuesday to encourage their wealth.
When they sit and ponder and wonder and think
Before recessing for lunch and a drink.
And when they’re refreshed they are wonderfully geared
For an afternoon, in the department of men who have beards
A beard is an enigma for those who don’t know
A cunning disguise, a façade one can grow
A veil of sorts to preen and to stroke
To conceal ones emotions
On ones face, like a cloak
And as these mystical men fratern with each other
They are equally untrue yet loyal as a brother
For often they’ve fought, laughed, loved and leered
Those in the department of men who have beards
My mother instructed don’t trust men with bow ties
Or men with no wife or men with glass eyes.
But her ultimate warning was for men who were weird
Those are the very same men who wear beards.
And in the department there is malice and fear
As they reflect on a motion while stroking their beards
They will raise their head high; turn their lips down and in
And run a fore finger up their neck to their chin
Or to reflect on a point or a deal to be done
They will glance their bridge finger across their lips to their thumb.
And when they are nervous they will twirl on a strand
Of hair from their cheeks, deftly by hand.
There is many a burden these men have to mount
The explaining of expenses to the men in accounts
But their greatest dilemma and hottest of clashes
Come from the bureau of men with moustaches
And so their day goes until dusk slowly calls
And they leave behind them those secretive walls
Of daring and planning and losing and fear
In that mystical department of men who have beards.
I know some men who work for a firm,
When I tell you of them I know you will squirm,
They work high in a building
Where they report
The floor they work on? I think it’s the fourth.
These men I know are so well revered
They work for the department of men who have beards.
Each one bedecked in the finest of suits
Impeccably dressed, wildly hirsute
From Monday to Friday they will gather as one
And reflect on their business and what needs to be done.
Some say they are brigands and men to be feared
Those in the department of men who have beards
Others will say they are men of good stealth
Who meet on a Tuesday to encourage their wealth.
When they sit and ponder and wonder and think
Before recessing for lunch and a drink.
And when they’re refreshed they are wonderfully geared
For an afternoon, in the department of men who have beards
A beard is an enigma for those who don’t know
A cunning disguise, a façade one can grow
A veil of sorts to preen and to stroke
To conceal ones emotions
On ones face, like a cloak
And as these mystical men fratern with each other
They are equally untrue yet loyal as a brother
For often they’ve fought, laughed, loved and leered
Those in the department of men who have beards
My mother instructed don’t trust men with bow ties
Or men with no wife or men with glass eyes.
But her ultimate warning was for men who were weird
Those are the very same men who wear beards.
And in the department there is malice and fear
As they reflect on a motion while stroking their beards
They will raise their head high; turn their lips down and in
And run a fore finger up their neck to their chin
Or to reflect on a point or a deal to be done
They will glance their bridge finger across their lips to their thumb.
And when they are nervous they will twirl on a strand
Of hair from their cheeks, deftly by hand.
There is many a burden these men have to mount
The explaining of expenses to the men in accounts
But their greatest dilemma and hottest of clashes
Come from the bureau of men with moustaches
And so their day goes until dusk slowly calls
And they leave behind them those secretive walls
Of daring and planning and losing and fear
In that mystical department of men who have beards.