What’s up there high
On the “Apprentice” guy?
Real hair don’t shine so bright. . .
A wig that’s fright?
Combed high, but brow is low;
Flat it won’t lie. . .
Ain’t no ’fro.
It’s kind of red,
But why don’t it shed?
Parting?

Thing on his head’s not hair,
Not natural hair.
Shining, gleaming,
Streaming, waxen, flaxen.

That thing is not hair, there. . .
Looking like a badger
That is fluffed up, madder
Than Cleopatra’s adder.

Hair? Where?! [repeat]
Grow it? No it
Surely must be faux, it
Ain’t hair.

It won’t fly in the breeze
And don’t move when he’ll sneeze.
Can such substance house fleas as can hair?
Won’t blow in breeze,
Made from the trees?*
Ain’t echt, I’m sure,
It’s unreal, pure.
It looks goofy; big spender,
What gender with that “hair”?
Hair? Where? [repeat]
Blow it? No it
Surely must be faux, it
Does flare.

It’s looking long, straight, squirr’ly, funky,
Plastic, mastic’d, nasty, ghastly.
Oily is he, dizzy.
Frizzy? Nix he.
Spotted mug is mottled. . .
Looking lots like Boehner.
Loudmouth, sounds south Jersey turkey.
That dude’s bad news, bad views, and he’s smirky.

No way can I see
This guy as serious debate consort.

He’s no seer,
Got fake hair
Way up there.
Thinks of naught but self.

He’s a blah-blah who just blows smoke;
He’s nothing but a ha-ha joke.
His word is not his bond. . .
Brilliant not, and it’s not hair.

Fake hair, creepy, abhorrent,
Won’t move, even in a torrent.
Hailstorm won’t dent it, not one
Strand; it’s a monstrosity.

Hair? Where?! [repeat]
Grow it, blow it?
It’s fake as a faux tit,
Non-hair. [repeat]



*Rayon is a manufactured regenerated cellulose fiber. Its production can come from a wide variety of mostly renewable trees.