Why does Shea need to grow a Viking beard?
He ain’t no master of the battle axe.
Along the Western Coast, no monks have feared
His dragon ships, his murderous attacks.
He ain’t no leader of wild, lupine packs.
His voice delivers no crazed, warlike cries.
He just ain’t known for predatory acts.
His presence draws no ravens from the skies.
He ain’t, like Epictetus, brave and wise.
If Caesar said, “You shave,” he’d shave his face
And try to shave his ass. The Stoic prize
Of peace in Mr. Shea can find no place.
Why grow the beard? His mug’s an open book:
Without the beard, he’d have the Innsmouth look.