Wash My Hair
It’s cruel. It’s harsh. It’s so unfair.
This doom. The gloom. My dark despair.
No other torture can compare:
Don’t make me wash my hair.I wish that I was bald and bare.
I beg. I plead. I say a prayer:
please spare me from this foul affair.
Don’t make me wash my hair.Oh don’t you know, or don’t you care,
are you simply unaware:
you’ll kill my cooties living there.
Don’t make me wash my hair.
Thursdays are dog days!
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