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Mine eyes have seen the orgy of the launching of the Sword; He is searching out the hoardings where the stranger's wealth is stored; He hath loosed his fateful lightnings, and with woe and death has scored; His lust is marching on. I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; They have builded him an altar in the Eastern dews and damps; I have read his doomful mission by the dim and flaring lamps- His night is marching on. I have read his bandit gospel writ in burnished rows of steel: "As ye deal with my pretensions, so with you my wrath shall deal; Let the faithless son of Freedom crush the patriot with his heel; Lo, Greed is marching on " In a sordid slime harmonious Greed was born in yonder ditch, With a longing in his bosom-and for others' goods an itch. As Christ died to make men holy, let men die to make us rich- Our god is marching on. "The Battle Hymn of the Republic, Updated" Mark Twain, 1901
