The demonstrators march and sing,
Using a banana-boat melody by
Harry Bellafonte, they try to bring
A dose of geopolitical fear
To the busy milling crowds, who
Might briefly notice the queer
Little group walking through
A Sunday afternoon, calling
Out for peace, not war, to a Carribean
Tune, they stroll away in the falling
Light, pretty much unheeded, unseen.
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