Poem about my grandson's first haircut.
HAIR THIEF
There is a big thief
and he's on the run
I'm guessing his job
must now be all done
I used to have hair
and now I have none
Starting on by one
he stole each lock
He took them all
So he has a BIG stock
I would call 9 1 1
but I can't yet talk
Will you please help me
to track down this nut
I may not know much
but I'll tell you what
I heard Mommy talking
and she calls him "haircut"
By Carrie Corn
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