Simon and Mustachefunkel
An American singer-songwriter duo consisting of Paul Simon and a guy with a bushy mustache. They are well known for their close vocal harmonies and refined mustache related traits, such as having a mustache. They became pioneers of Mustache pop, and paved the way for other artists like Crosby, Stills and Mustached Nash, Belle and Mustached Sebastian and The Jesus and Merry Mustache Chaingang.
They were among the most popular mustached recording artists of the 1960s; among their biggest hits were Bridge Over Stubbled Water, A Hazy Glade of Whiskers and Here's To Your Big Ol' Mustache Mrs. Robinson.
They were among the most popular mustached recording artists of the 1960s; among their biggest hits were Bridge Over Stubbled Water, A Hazy Glade of Whiskers and Here's To Your Big Ol' Mustache Mrs. Robinson.
The Mustached Boxer, by Simon and Mustachefunkel
I am just a mustache
Though my mustache is seldom told
I have squandered my whiskers
For a pocket full of stubble such are promises
All lies and mustaches
Still a man beards what he wants to beard
And disregards the chest hair
When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy with a mustache
In the company of mustached strangers
In the quiet of the mustached railway station running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the mustached people go
Looking for the places only they would grow mustaches
Lie la lie (Mustache!)...
Asking only workman's mustaches
I come looking for a shave
But I get no offers,
Just a come-on from the bearded whores on Seventh Avenue
I grow some hair, there were times when I was so lonesome and mustacheless
I took some comfort in my hair
Lie la lie (Mustache!)...
Then I'm laying out my mustache clothes
And wishing I was mustached
Going home
Where the mustached New York City winters aren't bleeding me
Bleeding me, going home
In the clearing stands a boxer with a mustache
And a mustached fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders with a mustache
Of ev'ry mustached glove that layed him down
Or cut him till, with a mustache, he cried out
In his mustached anger and his mustached shame
"I am mustached, I am mustached"
But the mustache still remains
I am just a mustache
Though my mustache is seldom told
I have squandered my whiskers
For a pocket full of stubble such are promises
All lies and mustaches
Still a man beards what he wants to beard
And disregards the chest hair
When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy with a mustache
In the company of mustached strangers
In the quiet of the mustached railway station running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the mustached people go
Looking for the places only they would grow mustaches
Lie la lie (Mustache!)...
Asking only workman's mustaches
I come looking for a shave
But I get no offers,
Just a come-on from the bearded whores on Seventh Avenue
I grow some hair, there were times when I was so lonesome and mustacheless
I took some comfort in my hair
Lie la lie (Mustache!)...
Then I'm laying out my mustache clothes
And wishing I was mustached
Going home
Where the mustached New York City winters aren't bleeding me
Bleeding me, going home
In the clearing stands a boxer with a mustache
And a mustached fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders with a mustache
Of ev'ry mustached glove that layed him down
Or cut him till, with a mustache, he cried out
In his mustached anger and his mustached shame
"I am mustached, I am mustached"
But the mustache still remains
Simon and Mustachefunkel by Niccolò Mustache-iavelli January 27, 2010
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