Found at random on t'internet. By anon. Here 'tis: Psalm of the Baldhead

Tell me not, in, merry accents, That I have an unthatched roof; 'Tis the hairy head that lacks sense- Baldness is of thought a proof.

Hair is vulgar, hair is useless, And to brush and comb's a bore, Making life but dull and juiceless I need brush and comb no more.

Not for wise men matted hair is, Black or brown or red or fair; Let the savage of the prairies Waste his time in raising hair!

Life is short, and hairs are numbered, And, though flies are hardly borne, Still at night I've always slumbered, When the night-cap I have worn.

Is the world's broad field of battle, Who'd be at the barber's call, Listening to his tiresome tattle, Better bare as billiard ball!

Fear no future, baldhead brother, You were bald in infant days; Crave not hirsute of another- Brain it is, not hair that pays.

Lives of great men all remind us That our smooth and polished pates Leave all hairy heads behind us- Let us thank the favoring fates!

Foot-Prints of Old Time's fleet walking No one sees on our smooth crowns, Mind no more the Idle talking Made by envious mop-head clowns.

Let us, then, O hairless brother, Proudly through life's pathway roll, We remember that dear mother Earth is barren at the pole.