They appeared one fine day
These young men
And occupied every corner
Of our street.
They wear khaki of various shades
Some with stripes
And black boots.
They carry a black metal
Hold it close to their chest
Like mothers would their babies
The tenderness is missing, perhaps.
They raise barracks on our pavements
And barbed them in and barbed us out!
We name them barbed men.
They look rough and tough
Can be quite brutal as well
But why do they look so melancholic?
These poor barbed men!