Shorn, my pate. It's a crew cut for me:
It's cute and, yes, it gets me lots of dates.
That's why it's shorn, my pate.

Shorn, my pate. For some strange reason the girls love
Up high this guy to palpitate;
So I've shorn my pate.

I look like a Buddhist brother
Who's snipped his coiffure free.
Buzz dome and dames will kiss you
And then practice phrenology.

You'll score soon.

Shorn, your pate; gone is your hair.
Wow! Gals love guys,
The kind they can manipulate
Up where it's shorn, the pate.

Shorn, your mate, not up. . .down there,
Where your part pries
Your partner's parted parure's gate,
That's where you horn your da-a-a-a-ate,
When she has shorn the gate.

You--pate.