It’s Been A Bad Year For Moustaches
by Christy Parker

It’s been a bad year for moustaches; a poor trip for the upper lip

It’s been poor God knows for the lower nose

Where the fungus halts the drip

It’s been smooth sailing for eyelashes; no fears for beards there be

But it’s been a bum’s rush for the manicured brush

-Thanks to Willie O’Dea

The eyes of the world were on Willie, trying to keep a straight face in place

With the aid of a ‘tache resembling a rash

Or some sort of strange grey life from space

Willie sent that ‘tache up, down and sideways and dancing about on his mouth

As he spun at full throttle in the hope that a brothel

Would not see his career counted out

It stayed true, it stayed stiff yet stayed nubile; it stayed glued as the battle ensued

It remained a non-quitter as Dan Boyle and his twitter

Tried to make Willie’s job stewed and screwed

It stayed stubborn near Cowen and Coughlan, refusing to fall in the Dail

As Willie insisted and further persisted

That his memory had lapsed –that was all!

But all hairy lips were a-quiver; men sighed and some women cried

Because unfortunate Willie looked increasingly silly

The more the truth showed he had lied!

Until even the Greens were embarrassed, then held sway at the end of the day

As the tape soon revealed just what Willie had squealed,

They called for his head on a tray

Amidst scandal, dishonour and shame, no trim could make Willie less grim

His ‘tache might be cute but the world and he knew it

Was beyond face saving for him

In their graves Mussolini and Hitler will have spun as the story was run

While Einstein no doubt would have failed to work out

How Willie thought he could have won

But now moustache wearers are wary as people they meet on the street

Take one look at the hair and respond ‘I declare

You are probably lying through your teeth.’

In affairs of the pocket or heart, the flash of the ‘tache is naive

And investors in both are being handed their coat

And politely requested to leave

It’s been a bad year for moustaches; smooth grins are now needed to win

So you’d best blow the whistle on your upper lip bristle

And dump it –with Willie- in the bin.