My hair grows down like roots from the banions,
- N P SAMAL
But the barbers, we know all super cons,
Fled the town lock-down ere;
Now on 'gaon' river,
The son cuts father's hair, and father son's.
As my hair straggles round, I'm made a creature,
A top-bun makes me a mythical actor;
And my wife with blunt scissors,
Like Anu for Virat's locks,
Storms about like a train'd hair-designer.
- N P SAMAL
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