When you get a haircut, be sure to go back home When you get a haircut, get a barber you have known Since you were a little bitty boy sittin' in a booster chair Or you might look like Larry, Moe or Curly if a stranger cuts your hair
Well, Butte, Montana just a'passin' through, one thing I just had to do Had to get a haircut and I was worried for my hair, oh I had a feeling of impending doom the minute I stepped into that room Laid my eyes upon that barber chair
It was a macho barber shop. Hair dryers were mounted on a rifle rack. There were no mirrors. The barber chair was a Peterbilt...Barber walked in; he was huge, seven feet tall, three hundred pounds of spring steel and rawhide wearin' a hard hat, chewin' a cigar, had a t-shirt on said, "I hate musicians". Threw me in the chair, sneered and said, "What'll it be pal?" Now a lot of people would be intimidated in a situation like this...I was not. I am what I am, play my piano, and sing my little songs. I looked him right in the eye and I said, "I'm a logger - just up from Coos Bay, Oregon. Been toppin' trees - quite possibly the tough...(cough) toughest man in the entire world". He said, "All right!" he gave me a haircut and I walked out of there friends, my hair was gone! Made Kojak look like William Lee Golden. Yeah, had a tremendous craving to operate heavy equipment. Now, you may think that Butte, Montana haircut's the worst any man could ever get...Wrong!
Well, a few months later, I was way down south - grits and gravy and hush your mouth Hair so long I'm startin' to look like a man in drag It was then that the sheriff walked up and said, "Boy, you got too much hair on your head...You better get yourself a haircut or a dog tag"
Well, when I stepped into the shop, I realized immediately that I was dealing with a born-again barber. Don't see too many barber shops with a steeple, had an organ in the corner, a choir, an usher led me to the barber chair. Barber walked in, started saying grace, "Oh Lord, for these haircuts we are about to receive, may we be truly thankful. Dominus possum pax probiscus, post mortem, et tu brute, puella carborundum". He was sorta half-Baptist, half-Catholic...maybe a Cathtist. He started cuttin' my hair and preachin' at the same time. I mean he's a wild man, scissors and razors a'flyin' around my head, he's talkin'about the evils of dancin' and drinkin' and liquor and sex and wild women and music and the music business. Then he looked down at me and he said, "What do you do for a livin'ahuh?" Now, I'm not ashamed of what I do for a livin'. Workin' bars and casinos, around liquor and wild women, I just play my piano, sing my little songs. I looked him right in the eye and I said, "I run this church for loggers!"
When you get a haircut, be sure to go back home When you get a haircut, get a barber you have known Since you were a little bitty boy sittin' in a booster chair Or you might look like Larry, Moe or Curly if a stranger cuts your hair...oh yeah!