Oh woe is me for the want of conditioner

Oh woe is me for the want of conditioner

For now the straw like hair mops atop my furrowed brow

With coarse dry ends that whisper in the breeze

And make my ears look fat as though a breeding sow

Oh woe is me for the want of conditioner

I greedily used the full bottle in haste

For thinking a new home and a new man so quickly to be

Alas this use was a sorrow filled waste.

Oh woe is me for the want of conditioner

I now must face the misery of my hair

Once silken and soft for glowing 'neath shining sun

Now a horses tail or the coarse fur on a bear.

Oh woe is me for the want of conditioner

I sobbed bitter and saddened tears in the shower

Squeezing the empty bottle with my tiny fists' might

And the banshees screech make the bravest God cower.

Oh woe is me, for Simple make but small bottles

The conditioner for gorgeous locks of shining sun

That I find myself in misery without

I suspect vandalisation and I blame Simon

Oh woe is me for the want of conditioner

The blonde haired demon must be punish-ed

For thieving my silk making elixier of hairly goodness

I shall minxfully shave his round fat head!