A middle-aged werewolf's Christmas wish.

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I've been around a long, long time.
I'm getting on in years.
And as I'm growing long in the tooth
I face my deepest fears.

See, on my muzzle, you will find
a thick matt of black fur.
But that is not what troubles me, no.
Oh, if only but it were.

I've also grown a thickened fur
down there upon my toes.  
Since ladies are here, I'll not describe 
that hair up in my nose

save to say that it's an unruly mess
and impossible to tame.
You think that you have nostril hairs?
My hair puts yours to shame!

I stopped trimming my moustache; it won.
My beard's an awful fright.
The hair in my ears grows so fast I
can hear it in the night.

My back resembles a mammoth's hide,
and covers up my tail.
When springtime comes I start to shed 
and leave a hairy trail.

My eyebrows have knit and grown together.
They hang before my eyes.
My chest hair has become a jungle.
My stomach fur likewise.

I've bushes under my armpits.  Yeah.
I've rugs upon my side.
My legs get carpetburn as I walk.
I attract lint, far and wide.

It should not bother me much;  Tis normal
for weres my age, I've read.
But I've grown hair damn near everywhere...
except atop my head!

So my Christmas wish for Santa is,
my scalp with follicles, fill.
Barring that, how bout a brand new hat?
Or some Minoxidil?

Dear Santa, my poor howl, please hear
and bring me hair to last.
I swear I'll not eat another reindeer;
I'll say they run too fast.


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Allen Kitchen (shockwave)
http://www.blkbox.com/~osprey/