THE HAIRCUT SONG

Well when you get a haircut,
 you better go back home
When you get a haircut,
get a barber you have known
Since you were a little bitty boy 
sittin' in a booster chair
 you might look like 
Larry, Moe or Curly if a stranger cuts your hair.

Well, Butte, Montana just a passin' through,
one thing I just had to do
Had to get a haircut and 
I was worried for my hair
I had a feeling of impending doom 
the minute I stepped into that room
And laid my eyes upon that barber chair

It was a macho barber shop.
Hair dryers were mounted on a rifle rack.
Wasn't no mirrors. 
The barber chair was a Peterbilt... 
Barber walked in;
he was huge, seven feet tall, 
three hundred pounds of 
spring steel and rawhide. 
Wearin' a hard hat, chewin' a cigar, 
had a t-shirt on -- said,
I hate musicians. 
Threw me in the chair, 
sneered and said, 
What'll it be pal? 


Now a lot of people would 
be intimidated in a situation like
this...I was not. 
I am what I am, play 
my piano, and sing my little songs. 
I looked him right in the eye and I said, 
I'm a logger - just up from Coos Bay, Oregon. 
Been toppin' trees - quite possibly the toughest
man in the entire world. 
He said, All right! he gave me a haircut and
I walked out of there friends, 

my hair was gone! Made Kojak look like
Bill Golden. Yeah, had a tremendous
craving to operate heavy equipment.
Now, you may think that
Butte, Montana haircut's the worst any man could
ever get... Wrong!
 
 

Well, a few months later I was in LA, truckin' 
along on a smoggy day
I needed a haircut so bad 
I looked like Bozo the Clown
I was looking shaggy, not too good, 
I had put it off as long as I could
Lord, I hate to get a haircut out of town

Well, I walked in and realized i
immediately that this guy was
into punk rock. 

The walls were done in black leather. 
Had chains and
whips and handcuffs hangin on them.
Barber walked in, he had orange hair.
Black mascara. Stainless steel teeth. 
Black leather jacket with zinc studs. 
He threw me in the chair, 
hit me a couple times - whap, whap -
chained me down, threw a Nazi flag over me. 
Said, I'm gonna tell you
something that might make 
you a little nervous. I laughed. Ha ha ha... I said, 
What could possibly make me nervous? 

He said, I'm gay. 
Nooo problem. I'm not threatened in any way. 
I mean, I'm secure in
my manhood, everything is cool 
I am what I am, play my little piano,
sing my little songs. 
I looked him right in the eye. I said, I'm a logger.
Played football in high school.
I was in the Marine Corps. He
said All right and he gave me a haircut. 
I walked out of there,

friends, my hair was purple. 
Well, at least that mohawk section down the
middle was purple. 
Had a white streak down one side... 
other side looked
like Mr. T. Had a couple 
safety pins in my cheeks. Felt a teeeeny bit
conspicuous. Luckily, my next job 
was in San Fransisco. 
Shoot, I got there and I didn't even 
stand out at all.  Wasn't even close! 
Those people thought I was an insurance salesman!

Well, a few months later, 
I was way down south, 
grits and gravy and hush
your mouth
Hair so long I'm startin' to look
like a man in drag
It was then that the sheriff came
up and said, Boy, you got too much
hair on your head...

You better get yourself a haircut or a dog tag!
Well, when I stepped into the shop,
I realized immediately that I was
dealing with a born-again barber.
Don't see too many barber shops with a
steeple, had an organ in the corner, 
a choir. An usher led me to the
barber chair. Barber walked in, 
started saying grace, Oh Lord, for
these haircuts we are about to 
receive, may we be truly thankful.
Dominus possum pax probiscus, 
post mortem, et tu brute, puella
carborundum. He was sorta 
half-Baptist, half-Catholic... kind of a
Cathtist.

He started cuttin' 
my hair and preachin' at the same time. I
mean he's a wild man, 
scissors and razors a'flyin' 
around my head, he's
talkin'about the liquor and wild women 
and music and sex and the evils
of dancing and the music 
business in general. Then he looked down at me
and he said, What do you do for a living? 
Now, I'm not ashamed of what
I do for a livin'. Workin' bars and casinos, 
around liquor and wild
women, I just play my piano, 
sing my little songs. I looked him right in
the eye and I said, I run this church for loggers...

When you get a haircut,
be sure to go back home
When you get a haircut, 
get a barber you have known
Since you were a little bitty boy 
sittin' in a booster chair
Or you might look like Larry, 
Moe or Curly if a stranger cuts your hair
 

Performed by Ray Stevens:
Written by: Mike Neun
Ray Stevens
C. W. Kalb, Jr.


 
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If you have enjoyed these messages, poems and songs and found them meaningful to you,
A donation will help me with the expense of maintaining the web site.
By clicking the donation button it will lead you to PayPal.com , an "aspx" secure site
Your support and any amount is very much appreciated!
Many Thanks... Susie


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