"The Beautician"
After Edgar Allan Poe
Once upon a morning busy, while I worked 'til nearly dizzy,
Scissors gleaming as I went through the daily goings on –
While I worked, there came the singing of my little bell a-ringing,
As someone pushed and entered, entered through the salon door.
"Tis some customer," I muttered "Ringing at my salon door –
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, how clearly I remember, it was in the warm September
And each fuzzy clipping lay, unswept upon the floor.
I was ready for a break, a job that little thought would take;
It seemed a simple job had just walked through my door –
Perhaps 'tis