he puts on his olive beret
and wipes mud on his face,
the guys and gals and their array
of guns and curtains on their base.
One of the girls with purple hair
takes off her sling of lace
and say her arm needs no more care
and she will duck under giant leaves
and crawl through the glare
of cuban suns and english thieves
and step on shrunken stage to sing cabaret
where terror and compassion interweaves.