When a giant has a haircut
it’s a massive enterprise
due completely to the giant’s
quite considerable size.

To begin an undertaking
of such monumental scope
first the barber needs a scaffold
and a thousand yards of rope.

He’ll need leather gloves and work boots.
He’ll need garbage cans and rakes,
plus a parachute and safety net
in case the giant shakes.

He’ll ascend by helicopter
to the giant’s lofty dome,
with a pair of swords for scissors
and a pitchfork for a comb.

Then for weeks and weeks he’ll labor;
he will cleave and slice and hack.
He will chop and saw and sever
like a raving lumberjack.

Turning forests into wastelands
slashing tangles everywhere,
you may hear him yelling “TIMBER”
as he’s felling strands of hair.

When at last the barber’s finished
then it fills his heart with sorrow
when the giant says, “My hair grows fast;
I’ll come again tomorrow.”