When the Saints Go Marching, Can You Imagine Them Joining?

I'm going to open the gallery and see all the saints of all the ages, now and now they're thrilled to look and desire. When the saints go marching, can you imagine them joining? Perverts, wide bounds, from oceans, farthest coast, through gates of pearls, streaming a countless host, singing to father, son, and holy ghost, Harry Luea. You know, there used to be an old hymn, and maybe not ten people here could recite it or tell me the first verse,. but everybody knows the chorus when the saints went marching in. They dance to that down in Bourbon Street, that hellhole, with all its prostitutes. It's