And the angel of the lord came unto me
Snatching me up from my place of slumber
And took me on high and higher still
Until we moved to the spaces betwixt the air itself
And he brought me into a vast farmlands of our own Midwest
And as we descended cries of impending doom rose from the soil
One thousand nay a million voices full of fear And terror possessed me then
And I begged Angel of the Lord what are these tortured screams?
And the angel said unto me
These are the cries of the carrots, the cries of the carrots!
You see, Reverend Maynard. Tomorrow is harvest day and to them it is the holocaust