An ode to long facial hair

When I was a kid (strange as it may sound)
I was not scared of ghosts, snakes or the Baskerville hound
The only being that I truly, wuly feared
was a man with a long, flowing beard

Not scared was I of jumping off highest trees
not of darkness, nor of swarms of bloodthirsty bees.
I could bite a dog, chase a bull, sting the ants
but the sight of a beard made me pee in my pants.

So, thank God for adulthood, praise the ageing process
No longer scared am I of grandpa, the street beggar, nor of Moses.
Very easily can I the subject of manes broach
What really scares me now is a flying roach!