When the grapes, so green, from the ground are picked,
And treaded and tramped in the trough for wine,
When the minters’ machines the money are printing,
The future fiscal year fast approaching,
The swill-eating swine for their sweet meat are slaughtered,
And carefully cured and cooked is the pork,
When the grassy grain grows so plump,
And shucked are the shells in the shed gathered,
When red and ...