Somewhere in Europe Crowds loudly cheer For twenty-two men Chasing a sphere

In the heartland where cornfields sway, a caucus begins the nation's say. Amidst the fields, where hawkeyes play, lies the first step of the ballot ballet.

A silver serpent crosses the land. Drawing miles of straight lines, sometimes a bend. It never sleeps but lays on a bed. Like stairs taking people up, yet it always stays flat.

In the countryside it stands so proud, With silos tall and livestock loud. Fields of gold surround its frame, Where farmers toil and call its name. What is it?

Used to contemplate or have fun. My parties are known worldwide. While my waving is constant, some stop to see a world in a piece of me.