A song for the Volcano

(Cont.)

When the workers witnessed this event, which the Volcano did to the Empire, the masses of laborers felt strong reverence for the Volcano, and they believed in the Volcano and accepted his servant Moses.

Then the workers sang a song for the Volcano, and it went like this:

§

I will sing to the Volcano, for he has triumphed gloriously: he dunked the King’s armored limousine under the ocean.

The Volcano is my strength and my power, and he has rescued me out of oppression: he is my GOD, and I will set up a shrine to him; my ancestors worshipped him too – let us plant a garden for him to inhabit.

The Volcano is a fighting man! His birth name is YAHWEH!

All the King’s infantrymen and entourage have been overwhelmed by the ocean: all our creditors and landlords are now corpses within the Red Ocean.

The depths have smothered them: they sank to the bottom like a stone.

Your right hand, O Volcano, glows red-hot with fury! Your right hand, O Volcano, dashed the Empire to pieces.

Your greatness and excellency were too much for them: the enemies that rose up against you got burnt by your fiery anger – they fried up like stubble.

With a blast from your snout, the waters of the ocean were impelled into the air: the floods hovered suspended like a magic carpet, and they oozed around as globules in a lava lamp, patiently waiting while your workforce walked beneath them.

Then our enemy said: “I will pursue, I will overtake, I will cheat them and rob them, and split the spoils with the bosses and overseers; my greedy lust shall be sated upon them; I will draw my weapons and eviscerate them.”

But you then blew with your raging wind, and the ocean collapsed: it thundered down on their heads like doomsday.

They sank as lead in the mighty waters!

Who is like you, O Volcano, among the gods!? who is like you: radiant with potency, terrifying in appearance, and instigating horrors yet unheard of on the earth!

You waved with your wand, and the ocean swallowed them.

But, in your mercy, you led forth the humble working people from the Empire: you redeemed them from their servitude and guided them with your might to your abode on the hillside.

The rest of the world shall hear our story and be shocked. Sorrow shall grip the inhabitants of Minnetonka. Then the dukes of Edina shall be dumbstruck; the successful entrepreneurs of Wayzata shall be seized with fits of trembling; all the moguls of Woodbury shall melt away.

They shall all be utterly consumed by fear and dread; when they see the magnificence of your arm, they shall freeze like statues; until your workforce has made it across, O Volcano, until the people whom you have rescued have made it across.

You shall gather them up and plant them in your hill, in the covert home where you reside, O volcano of potential, in the natural sanctum whose ornate chambers you built with your hands. Long live the Volcano!

For the armored coach of the King went in with his squad vehicles and his gun trucks into the ocean, and the Volcano slammed the waters down upon them; but the working class walked on dry land, right through the ocean.

§

And Myala the black panther, consort of Bryan, took a timbrel in her paw; and all the damsels followed her with timbrels, praying and dancing, all through the night.

And they began the song again from the top, saying: “I will sing to the Volcano, for he has triumphed gloriously: he dunked the King’s armored limousine under the ocean.”