Mine eyes have seen the glory of the biscuits of the Lord He's squeazing out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored, He has loosed the fateful lightening of His terrible swift sword His truth doth linger on. Glory! Glory! holey ringsting Glory! Glory! holey ringsting Glory! Glory! holey ringsting His truth doth linger on. I have seen Him in the watch-fires with a hundred circling camps the're acting out their knavery with their whips and nipple clamps l can see the problems shining in the flaring lamps His day is marching on. I have seen the campers in their pink tents if you please They were very silent only moving only in breeze he visited everyone of them with nuggart for to tease his grapes are coming on I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnish`d rows of steel, If you search for chocolate fudgery with grapes you'll have to deal;" Let the Hero, born of woman, wear his dress and cuban heel but the sting keeps ringing on. He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat he's had a special cushion fashioned and a hole within his seat Oh, be swift, boy get his anusol and rub it on him neat! his berries dangle on. Tis in the beauty of the lilies of the cubicle you see, That the ring of firey purpleness has ensnared those that are free Be careful who you show yours to, make sure they leave it be And grapes will not come on.