Barber Shop

I walk along, hand in father's paw,
Licking a lolly pop, strawberry flavored.
We're going to get a hair cut at the corner barber shop.
We approach the little building
With the blue and red striped poles,
Where men go to lose their hair.
There's just something about this barber shop
I haven't quite figured out.

There's just something about this barber shop,
A place where men can be men.
A crew cut here, a burr there;
Elton said it's peculiar in a funny sort of way.
To think that barbers used to be surgeons
Frightens me a little at least,
Which brings me to the point of this here poem
Whose topic I haven't quite figured out.

Finally, it's my turn in the barber's chair,
Time for me to lose some hair.
With every comb and a shave,
Well, it just feels so liberating.
My hair had begun to take over,
And I guess this place is a hall of freedom of sorts,
Which perhaps answers the question,
Perhaps this topic I've now figured out.