Oh there, Moustache, on your upper lip,
Hairy and prickly, and moves as you speak,
Oh Moustache, like a caterpillar yonder,
Dancing around to the movement of your speech.
Moustache wiggles to the left,
Moustache wiggles to the right,
A white hair emerges on the side of your lip,
Free and uncaring to all worldly things.
Moustache as epic as epic as moustaches can be,
Handlebars, pencilled, toothbrush and walrus,
Horseshoe, fu Manchu, they move as your whisper,
Yours, I regret to inform, is barely a cat’s whiskers.