Once I was out walking and whom did I meet,
But a man with a stick on Washington Street?
Now one stick’s okay but it’s sort of a bore.
He needs more people, at least seven more
To show off their sticks and carry them proudly,
Carry them gladly and carry them loudly.
Then I thought that those sticks just weren’t good enough.
Suppose they had guns – they would really look tough.
But why stop with guns as they marched to the beat.
They should have assault rifles on Washington Street.
Assault rifles, yes, a bazooka to start…
But they need so much more if they want to look smart.
I know! They’ll tow a large cannon behind,
The glowing and blowing-up-everything kind.
As they march, they will need some support from the air
So I’ll make sure that bombers are flying up there.
And rockets and nuclear warheads – so sweet!
What a spectacle marching on Washington Street!
And as I beheld all the riot and noise,
I saw that it frightened the girls and the boys.
No one laughed, no one sang, no one clapped to the beat
Of the terrible fury on Washington Street.
I knew right away I must do something quick.
I ran up to the man who was swinging his stick.
“Oh, please, sir,” I asked, “what will you do
With your stick that you have accompanying you?”
“This stick?” asked the man. “Why, I think it’s just right
In the length and the strength for making a kite.”
A kite! Oh, how wonderful! That would be grand.
A much better site than the one I had planned.
And later that day as I walked through the crowds,
I saw the man’s kite soaring up to the clouds.
It shone like a star, with a movement so fleet!
And to think that I saw it on Washington Street.