Honey's Treasures

Honey's Treasures

Sunday, November 29, 2015

A Barber Poem by Mike's Son, Tom

As you know, we make barber poles.  It's kind of a long story but basically, Mike had his old spinning barber pole stolen from in front of his barber shop years ago, back when he was still barbering.  He designed a wooden barber pole that he could bring in and out each day.  The one you see hanging to the left of the large barber pole is his first design.  Since then, we've designed other ones.  The large pole you see there is just like one that Facebook ordered from us for their campus barber shop.

Here is a poem that Mike's son, Tom here, (and Tom here) wrote when he was just a boy.  Many of you who know Michael, aka, Mike the barber, are aware that he is brutally honest and also a great story teller.  Did I say liar?  (haha) Yes, Mike can spin quite a yarn.  He's hilarious and he can get on quite a roll whenever we're around our friends or family.  Mostly everyone gets a kick out of Mike.

The Great Barber

Halfway along the two great cities of fame, San Francisco and Sacramento as given by name, tis a small town not known for a harbor, but famous as the town of a once great barber.
Now this great barber had all the utensils dealing with hair, his clippers, his combs and of course a barber chair.
His hands were steady, his shop was clean, his dress was casual and his build was lean.
But this barber was renown for a specialty not dealing with his occupation, but his personality.
Many were surprised to find that he was so unique.  
After all, his shop was plain, nothing special - no boutique.

It just so happens that this certain one had the eloquence of a politician and a widely forked tongue.
Vernacular was his religion, B.S. ing was his art, if you had stepped into his shop, he'd surely play the part.
With some he was witty, with some he was crude, he was likable to men, but women thought him rude.
Yes, conversation was his specialty, his joy and pride.  If it pleased his patrons, nothing would he hide.

As it happened, the day came that no man could desire.  
Yes, unfortunately, this was the day for the barber to expire.
It was a simple slip of the tongue, a careless lapse of thought, he had said the wrong thing, and with a customer he fought.
The customer was the victor and the barber died tongue-tied.
Although the man is dead, his legend will never die, as long as people remember, and someone says something sly.

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