i sing of Olaf glad and bigi sing of Olaf glad and bigwhose warmest heart recoiled at war:a conscientious object-orhis wellbelovéd colonel (trigwestpointer most succinctly bred)took erring Olaf soon in hand; but--though an host of overjoyed noncoms (first knocking on the head him )do through icy waters roll that helplessness which others strokewith brushes recently employed anent this muddy toiletbowl, while kindred intellects evoke allegiance per blunt instruments--Olaf (being to all intentsa corpse and wanting any rag upon what God unto him gave) responds,without getting annoyed "I will not kiss your fucking flag"straightway the silver bird looked grave(departing hurriedly to shave)but--though all kinds of officers (a yearning nation's blueeyed pride) their passive prey did kick and curseuntil for wear their clarion voices and boots were much the worse, and egged the firstclassprivates onhis rectum wickedly to tease by means of skilfully appliedbayonets roasted hot with heat--Olaf (upon what were once knees)does almost ceaselessly repeat"there is some shit I will not eat"our president, being of whichassertions duly notified threw the yellowsonofabitchinto a dungeon,where he diedChrist (of His mercy infinite)i pray to see;and Olaf,toopreponderatingly becauseunless statistics lie he wasmore brave than me:more blond than you. ~E. E. CummingsPicture found here.