Grandfather Hercules, Grandfather Hercules, He’s got ‘er workin’. See, Grandfather Hercules wakes up at three “o” three And does nine standard burpees. Then he goes back to sleep, Grandfather Hercules Till the sun rises in the east. And what do we hear, around five or six “o” three? The sun calling from the east, “Grandfather Hercules, Grandfather Hercules, Rise up and dine with me Grandfather Hercules, make us some bread to eat While our friends in the trees Sing, ‘tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet!’” So Grandfather Hercules gets to his wrinkly feet And says, “oh rising star in the east I’ll make you a shining feast around nine “o” three As long as you shine for me, Wonderful star in the east, until the blue evening Meets with your beautiful heat.” So every morning from May to September From the earliest days that I can remember My grandfather’s gaze was ablaze with the embers Of the summer sun rays, so amazingly tender. He said, “Wheresoever you should stray Along your windiest winding way And howsoever long are your loneliest days, Whether met with gay songs and bewildering praise Or having wet your long johns and been cut from the play, I solemnly, solemnly, solemnly pray That you always wake up and relentlessly say, ‘Good morning!’ to every Last one of your wonderful days.” And with that he got up And went to the bay Window, which he opened And proudly proclaimed, “I love you, tender clouds, Yellow plains, I love you, starting now Till the last time it rains.”