Down, down yonder, where the handle pans
In bowls of dust and throats of sand
With stammer jaws and hands of gauze and rust
They beg for a good ol' song like a dog for crust

"Master, master, revive us a tale
Of the dandy ol' harvester what done lived in the vale
Oh, please, won'tcha, won'tcha, master, master, turn back the page
When the land was plum and green, and we got shine and wage?
Yes, we got shine and wage—"

(“Shine and wage…” Now what do you think, children, do you think they deserve “shine and wage”?)

Heed the story of The Swallow And The Other Birds--
And the selfish, and wicked harvester
Who pillaged the grains and poisoned the plains!
'Til it drew from the vein of my vengeance…

Cast from the highlands, my twisted black rollers came howling
Lashing the faithless in spirals of dust, cloud, and sand
The wicked harvester tempted the Heavens
Now broken and barren his land!

After a fall, I lifted my wings out of mercy
Generous me! But country dogs lack common sense…
The wicked harvester
With seed bags, went fixing to sow a further offense!
How is my heart so forgiving?
My kindness could swallow you whole—

[God and His Ladies of Virtue]
Pluck the seeds of evil by rake and by fist
Lest bells of The Black Sunday toll!
Pluck the seeds of evil by rake and by fist
Lest bells of The Black Sunday toll!

[Author]
Seedlings were sown by the plow where a flock of birds nested
The wisest among them squawked "Peck every seed from the soot!
The wicked harvester
Will be of our ruin if these bitter morsels take root!"

Heedless, the little birds cackled and scoffed at their elders
But seeds grew to fiber and braided a venomous net
The wicked harvester
Captured the half-witted flock as they wept in regret!

How is my heart so forgiving?
My kindness could swallow you whole—

[God and His Ladies of Virtue]
Pluck the seeds of evil by rake and by fist
Lest bells of The Black Sunday toll!
Pluck the seeds of evil by rake and by fist
Lest bells of The Black Sunday toll!
Pluck the seeds of evil by rake and by fist lest...
God
Ding-dang-ding!

How is my song so beguiling?
These pipes, they could swallow you whole!

[God and His Ladies of Virtue]
Pluck the seeds of evil by rake and by fist
Lest bells of The Black Sunday toll!
Pluck the seeds of evil by rake and by fist
Lest bells of The Black Sunday toll!

Down, down, down come the winds!
Round, round, round goes the dust!
Black, black black is the Sunday

Crash, crash, with the drums
Weep, weep, weep, wails the fife!
Black, black, black!

Down, down, down come the winds
Round, round, round goes the dust!
Black, black, black is the Sunday, Alleluia!

[All]
Crash, crash, crash with the drums (All children of Heaven sing, Alleluia!)
Weep, weep, weep, wails the fife (Borne of blood and cast of wing, Alleluia!)
Black, black, black is the Sunday, Alleluia! (Alleluia! Alleluia! Always Alleluia!)
Down, down, down come the winds (Hear The Word in hallowed halls, Alleluia!)
Round, round, round goes the dust (All good children never fall, Alleluia!)
Black, black, black is the Sunday, Alleluia! (Alleluia! Alleluia! Always Alleluia!)

Black, black, black is the Sunday…
Alleluia!
Alleluia!