Two Mustache in the Face

Two mustache in the face,

And sorry I could not wear both

And be one sexy, long I stood

And looked down as far I could

To where it bent at lip;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it bushy and want wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally long

In piles no hair had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how shave leads on to shave,

I doubted if it should ever grow back.

I telling this con suspiro

Somewhere days and days hence:

Two mustache diverged by choice, and I—

I took the one less bushy,

And dis made all the difference.