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 moving 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.