- Cast in iron from a pot hole in Estern Market, Detroit MI, with the poem below engraved in the rim.
Driving down a blemished road, pie holes tell you just how old.
Swerve to miss a holey wreck, instead you break a rabbits neck.
But dont you fret, and dont you cry, just bake it in a pieted pie.
Put the pie back in the ground, That all your friends may gather round,
And stuff their pie holes with the feast, thanking the forsaken beast.