He was getting old and paunchy And his hair was falling fast, And he sat around the Legion, Telling stories of the past. Of a war that he once fought in And the deeds that he had done, In his exploits with his buddies; They were heroes, every one.
Where do they sleep? The Hondurans in the caravan, the 7,000 people walking north to America, where do they go to the bathroom? And eat and sleep and store their clothes? And how is it that after a week on the road they are clean and their hair and clothes are well kept? How is […]