My dear wife’s Cosmetologist

Is truly Master of His trade.

His touch no blemish can resist;

No beauty He bestows can fade.

He needs not gold or braided hair

To highlight all her winning features:

His flawless make-up makes her fair--

To me, the fairest of all creatures.

What is their secret?  How does she

Bloom fresh as fields of new-mown clover?

He has her read First Peter three,

And as she reads, He makes her over.