Isaiah sings the Wild Grape Blues

Let me now sing of my friend,
my friend’s song concerning his vineyard.
I cleared myself a vineyard, on a fertile slope o’ ground;
Built a wine-press and a tower, and the choicest vines I put down;
But I went to look at harvest-time, (don’t cha know) only wild grapes I found.

So neighbors, judge between me and this vineyard of mine:
Could I have worked it any better? Why don’t it give me good wine?
I went to look for sweet grapes, but only wild grapes on the vine.

I’m gonna tear down all the fences, let the cattle trample through;
Let the sheep and goats graze on it: yes, that’s what I’m gonna do;
Tell the clouds to hold the rain back, not a single drop of dew.

So hear: the house of Is-rael is the vineyard of the Lord;
and he gave the vine of Judah all the care He could afford (which is everything, don’t cha know)
But the bloodshed and injustice means His word has been ignored.

(Oh, yeah.)