Memoirs of a Mustache

Oh how accustomed I have become, to people looking at me like I'm scum.
The adventures and the stories will never be forgotten, that upper lip warmer cannot be boughten.
It is true the month is nearly passed, the misplaced eyebrow I've worn each day, will meet its last.
Tears will be shed for the little muzzy, that dot and dash we all love to see.
The soup strainer's days are numbered and few, and the massacre of the upper lip plumage shall be true.
But oh... the wondrous life that mouser has had, the people that face fungus has made so darn mad.
The changes on the world that old lip tickler has created. Alas this stache will soon be cremated!
In our hearts the nose neighbor will live on, whether fu manchu, walrus or as the chevron.
All enemies the lip patch does somehow thwart, and why can't each man a face hog sport?
So clean your clothes and give em some starch, and be ready to plant some lip spinach next March!
Although the flavor saver will end on this day, you have not seen the last of my tash I say!
"Long live the cookie duster" said with a sigh, next year we'll bring back the Magnum PI
So now its the end of this face furniture freestyle, with love and respect to that hairy lip pile.