I always thought I was a good-natured guy
With all of my cuss-words quite saving;
But to shave off the whiskers and have someone talk
While you’re doing it calls for some raving.
For where is the man who can razor his pan
With his face muscles all misbehaving?
I’ve tried it and can’t, and that’s why I rant:
“Oh, don’t talk to me while I’m shaving.”
To prove what I say, try me any old way:
Scatter tacks out in front on my paving;
Put ink in my toothbrush or salt in my tea,
But don’t talk to me while I’m shaving!
by Ray Romine Saturday, September 8, 1934
