When God picked up our luck, man!, it was like a dream! Suddenly the stress lines smoothed, the grey hairs colored and all our bitching melted sweetly in our mouths. Even the capitalists couldn’t help but say: Boy! They found something we can’t sell them! Yes, sir! We’ve touched a truth above the law of supply and demand. Lord, keep up our luck like fragile, playful kites. Those who went out marching to shoot the field with seed will come back dancing with soil on their hands. Out they went to war, intent on spoils of food. Back they come with gifts from the free, unconquered country