At birth I was joined to my twin
Not by bones, nor shared organs, nor skin,
But this broad ginger beard
Which still dangles, unsheared,
’Twixt her beauteous cheeks and my chin.

I realise there could be objections to this rhyme, and I wish to pre-empt them by explaining that, in a perfect world, my first choice would have been the strong past participle ‘unshorn’ in place of ‘unsheared’; but in this Philistine age the writer who seeks to keep such charming archaisms alive is all-too often ostracised as some kind of a freak.