Stick stuck in the ground
Caught deep in your bunker
Where people parade by you
Like some Macy Day hooligans
Children climbing your limbs
Soaring high above are birds of radiant colors
From your head of foliage
Ladies tie a yellow ribbon
In support of their troops
No worries Babe's dear friend
Has long passed us by
His infamous axe is hanging above
The golden mantle, so many
Can look upon it in audacious stares