Caught a bit of Trump’s conversation with his new Parisian hair stylist, Allan, which unbelievably, he sung to the tune of the Broadway hit “Hair”:
You ask me why I’m just a hairy guy.
It’s kinky noon and night. Hair that’s a fright.
What’s hairy high was low.
Why move it north?
Don’t know.
Was ready for transplants.
Don’t need hair in my pants.
Darlin’.
Give me a head with Hair.
Long beautiful Hair.
Some back, ass crack, ball sac, geezers, tweezers
Give me length of tie, Hair.
Shoulder length won’t do, Hair.
Hair haven, there shaven.
Ivanka’s bad boy Daddy Hair.
Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair.
Show it.
Mow it.
Greatest head since Samson, my Hair.

Written by

Engaged citizen, poet, musician, humorist, family man. I value irreverence, soulfulness, and a big heart. Offering insight, introspection, shock & aw shucks!

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