Lyrics

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!