When I was young, my ringlets waved
And curled and crinkled on my head:
And then they said “You should be shaved,
And wear a yellow wig instead.”
But when I followed their advice,
And they had noticed the effect,
They said I did not look so nice
As they had ventured to expect.
They said it did not fit, and so
It made me look extremely plain:
But what was I to do, you know?
My ringlets would not grow again.
So now that I am old and gray,
And all my hair is nearly gone,
They take my wig from me and say
“How can you put such rubbish on?”
And still, whenever I appear,
They hoot at me and call me “Pig!”
And that is why they do it, dear,
Because I wear a yellow wig.