...I KNOW that's right (or the antiquity of Jeff's Beard) pt. II

...continued...

. .. ... .... v ...... ........ ......... ......... x: poem (meter or rhyme)

And yet thy beard so sacred blessed,
Without thee, mine face look distressed.
Enough of this, ye friend or foe?
So much I cut, so much thy grow.
Or better yet, I have to say,
"Mine face, thy home, beg thee to stay"
Extoll thy shape, thine chin-strap-folk!
Nary yet, so thick I'd hoped,
Except to thou, aged three or four.
So shall thy stay, I thee implore?
Should thy tarry forever more?

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