My beard is one of distinction,

the only beard that I can caress

It started in Montevideo,

And now it’s just reaching its best.

 

Like Klaas our captain and skipper,

It’ll grow till it reaches my chest

And birds will fly all around it

and then they’ll use it to nest.

 

But in England lives my darling

and I always do what I’m told                         

So before I return the razor

Will make my face fresh but cold

 

My wife loves my face for some reason

But thinks my beard makes me look old

It is her clear perception

That my beard is nothing but mould.