He strolled slow
From the west
Straight to the church
With an axe
Trailing behind his steps
The ravens Laughed
The children Cried
The pastors in pieces
He Held the Heart in Hand
And tore into it with His teeth
Then he addressed the town
Towns folk
I do not disguise
That before your eyes
It Is I
Billy The Brute
The Farmer of God's Root!