Victory is nigh and the pulpit so high
Where tarpaulin sheets lightly lie
On the bones of the past and Sigh!
I am so taken up by the purple pups
And the brown horsies and the cups
That make me make another round
Of all those now unbound and sound,
All those who walk clothed or naked
Or sleeping or desireful or walking
Or running, all those who lie sit up
Waking sacred waters of life run
And the Yamuna surges and
The Brahmaputra blares and blazes sun!
And the golden light of buttery milk
Washes down every throat and of course
The food is sumptuous as those of
All ages are now twelve in youth and oft
I sit and meditate, contemplate on my
Boss's favourite nudes and paints
Are splashed and money is made
And all of us now eternally celebrate
The immortal light of life in our blood
And salty sardines on our plate and cups
And soon many maidens of youth all twelve
Into the secret loving arms of life delve
As love touches all hearts, the Genie's love
And all are freed from captivity
But we captivate and bewitch
And enchant the seamstresses
And the hostesses who so kindly
Serve in Lhasa where the purple pups
On purple hills make music pleasant
With hardworking peasants
And we get presents this victory day
When it is nigh as I sit high on life!
Victory, Victory, Victory is in me!
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