Best Barbershop Poems

THE BARBERSHOP QUARTET

The barbershop quartet, mustache brushes in hand.
A Capella joviality, with torquing wrists, snapping fingers.
Bristles foaming, silky white and smooth, voices grand.

Dapper in their pinstripe suits, hats — Delmonico brand.
Sweet Adeline, drawn out.  My Adeline — peaks, lingers.
The barbershop quartet, mustache brushes in...

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Old Mr. Nicholson
totters across the town square
to the barbershop where
Clive has cut his hair
for the last forty years or so

Not hardly needing
even a trim
but pretending
he has a reason besides
the gossip waiting within

Inside, the shop smells like hair tonic
shaving cream and old leather
and the only noticeable...

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A cluttered barbershop in my old hometown I fondly call to mind,
Was a gathering place to loaf and socialize, a great place to unwind!
Harry, the barber, kept farmers, the local rabble and boys like me,
Looking right smart, clipping hair and shaving necks for a two-bit...

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Through the window you can see him there,
shaving whiskers and trimming hair.
Red and white swirling outside the door,
as hair drifts skittering across the floor.

He stands all day, he works so hard
dreaming of a sunbath out in his yard.
The little girl waits with broom in hand,
for...

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Welcome to my barber shop,
Owned by the late Puddin' Pop.
That's my dad's picture in the frame:
Let me tell you how he earned his nickname.
Back in the summer of 1984,
My mom bought my sister and me to the store.
There was a barber shop next door,
And here's...

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