Started greasing his hair with a slab of streaked, uncooked middling
Upwards to twice a week, every Saturday-way back in the late 50(s).
It was a grade below seasoned bacon, but he didn't know such things.
The only real faithful friend was a toothless ole hound that always followed.

Somehow, he and his only true friend walked daily right through it all
The Civil unrest, assassinations, Vietnam conflict that followed in the 60(s).
Just after dusk he would rob hens - serve everybody in sight, eggs for Breakfast.
Finally ran of meat-true friend ran off with a hippie to San Francisco in embattled 70s.