What’s that aroma in the air, that seems so deep and wide?
Why, it’s the lovely smell of Freedom, and sweet American Pride.

It didn’t come from nowhere, it’s been in the air so long,
But it’s only now and again, that the scent becomes so strong.

As if an apple pie, coolin’ off on a window sill,
Or fat and juicy hot dogs, cookin’ on the grill,

The smell just grabs your nose, and the
hunger hits you hard.
Your patriotism awakens, when there’s a
stranger in your yard.

But the Children of the Eagle, grow stronger
every day,
Because an eagle feeds its young, ’til the
hunger goes away.

So Justice will be served, by the Red,
the White, and Blue,
‘Cause this picnic called “America”, was made
for me and you.

By Unknown Native American
Source: http://nativeamericanencyclopedia.com/native-american-poetry-brood-the-eagle/