The Chinese believe there is a god of everything
                             god of the sun, the moon, the wind and rain
                              It's hard to imagine and it may sound absurd
                            But there's even a patron saint of bean curd
                                  [bad word] Guan Di is his name
             Guan Di is his name
             Guan Yu, Guan Me, Guan Di
                       Guan Di is his name
             
In the mining town of Goldlick the year was eighteen-seventy
                                 The Chinese came to work and rid themselves of poverty
                           Primitive conditions, long hours in the mines
                           Trying to get ahead, grown men work for dimes
                   Then one night it happened, disaster [bad word]                               [bad word] from below, the Chinese were stuck
                       An old Chinaman prayed, for the loved ones he so cherished
                                Asking the saint of curd to protect the souls who perished
                              [bad word] 
With flashing red eyes and a flowing white beard
                           Everyone knew he was a god to be feared
                     No living creature survived his wrath
                      Everyone knew not to ever cross his path
                    [bad word] x2