Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming GOONish horde:
We are breaking out the hip flasks where the pubbie tears are stored;
We will nuke some poor dumb sucker for a nominal reward;
The frogs are hopping on.
I have heard their trollish cackles round a hundred circling camps,
They have builded up their ensigns by their righteous marker stamped
I can read the lunar GOON writ in the dim and flaring lamps
Our balls are rolling on.
I have read about their treaties; I have traded in their deals;
I have garnered their support and traded asphalt, beer and steel;
Let the Something Awful champion crush the pubbies with his heel,
Lowtax has spurred us on.
Gov has called order that we never will retreat;
He is sifting out the chubby chasers, faint of heart and freaks;
Oh, be swift, my sled, to answer, so that I can bring the heat!
Our Gov is moving on.
From the fog of war our armies will be born across the sea
With Grenades upon their bosoms granting them authority:
To burn and salt and pillage and acquire currency,
While Bob is watching on.
They are coming in the horror of an endless human wave,
So take shelter, all ye mighty, and seek succor, all ye brave:
Soon the world shall be our footstool and the nations be our slaves,
The GOONS are marching on.
(Chorus)
Glory, glory, Something Awful!
Glory, glory, Something Awful!
Glory, glory, Something Awful!
The GOONS are marching on!
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