A Hymn For Our Times

I have long disliked the Battle Hymn of the Republic, but it occurred to me in a half-dream (much as the original did to Julia Ward Howe) that it could be repurposed to our present crisis quite aptly:

Mine eyes have seen the gathering of a scant and scraggly horde,
The butternuts and brown-shirts and shitposters — how I’m bored!
They hath spewed a hateful whitening, but they’ve probably never scored.
These tools are marching on.

(Chorus)
Glory, Glory, troll-a-lujah!
Glory, glory, troll-a-lujah!
Glory, glory, troll-a-lujah!
These tools keep marching on.

I have seen them in the comments of a thousand videos,
They have bullied and harassed every feminist I know,
I disdain the whiteous semblance of these dim and blaring bros.
These tools are marching on.

(Chorus)
Glory, Glory, troll-a-lujah!
Glory, glory, troll-a-lujah!
Glory, glory, troll-a-lujah!
These tools keep marching on.

I have heard a fiery gospel, that I truly do believe:
“If one of us is chained, then none of us is free”;
But these zeros, scared of darkness, cling to white supremacy,
Thus tools keep marching on.

(Chorus)
Glory, Glory, troll-a-lujah!
Glory, glory, troll-a-lujah!
Glory, glory, troll-a-lujah!
These tools keep marching on.

We have sounded forth the tuba, and shall never call retreat;
We are flushing out the sharts of men with every block-ed Tweet.
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer! Be resolv-ed, as concrete.
‘gainst tools still marching on.

(Chorus)
Glory, Glory, troll-a-lujah!
Glory, glory, troll-a-lujah!
Glory, glory, troll-a-lujah!
These tools keep marching on.

In a beaut-e-ous preamble, were we promised liberty,
In our duty to each other, let us knock down traitor Lee,
As he fought to keep Blacks binded, let us work to make all free,
Even tools still marching on.

(Chorus)
Glory, Glory, troll-a-lujah!
Glory, glory, troll-a-lujah!
Glory, glory, troll-a-lujah!
These tools keep marching on.

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