1  Not many live men now are called, 
       not many mobile brethren,
    Not many stiff - the chosen ones, 
       for you see your calling:
    Sons of Herb, you are called, 
       not because you're living;
    Even the wisdom of the splits 
       is to Herb but foolish.

 2  Herb chose the foolish of the world;
       He chose no animation;
    He chose the things which do not move,
       that are dead and gory.
    Sons of Herb, you are called,
       not to have a graveyard;
    You who are called and tithe on time
       shall fill the coffins.

 3  Even the foolishness of Herb,
       wiser than the sheep are;
    Even the weakness of our Herb,
       stronger than sheep are.
    Sons of Herb, you are called,
       not to have a graveyard;
    Let who are gory boast in Herb,
       not in their decomposition.