Isaac’s sons they’re plowing Decay to work it under And even hope allowing Are meant to be hell's plunder. Deftly rows they’re turning, Deafly gazing blue eyes down. Two thousand years slow burning, We churn still more God’s ground. Edom’s ash cannot see. Someone; is a char; of ten Try bees, are you’re a paean? Dan gat enough tally. Our fences need mending, We like to fin'lly finish. Cudding cows I’m still tending. Toil their taunts diminish. What lies beyond his trover, Like birthrights Edom hates. The name and place of brothers’ He claims for his estates. Build and grow forever, We prefer to plow than fight; Yet we will stand together, Securing our King’s right. See the bongos dancing The squealing of the fairies Pink ponies like them prancing Vile imp rarely varies. Dominions make us strong, True blue and star so white; For fathers to whom belong By God our valor plight. March forth to tenor drums Proclaim “Awake!” proud ye pipes Quickly form when booms the horn Charge ye all when shrills the fife. We craved not this wicked war; Heaven and hearth, it begins, Call men to knights, plow to sword, Rise to conquer hell again.