Gashed with honourable scars,
Low in Glory's lap they lie;
Though they fell, they fell like stars,
Streaming splendour through the sky.

The women had descended on the Lane like locusts, looking for bargains. ("Breaking the Fast")

that slow and beautiful decay which flings crowns underfoot to star the earth with fallen glories,

The honor of the people lies in the moccasin tracks of the women.

And then who comes along to save the day? A couple of tool-belt wearing, golf-loving, Dinah Shore weekend lesbians sent from heaven.

Anyway, this pair of ladies, they look like the rough end of flattened shit.

How sleep the brave who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blest!

South of Oklahoma, east of New Mexico, West of Louisiana, where all them Cajuns go We gotta a little place called Texas Where the women grow on trees There right there for the pickin' Just as easy as a man could please <p>You'd better run take hold You're gonna get young 'fore ya get old Them Texas women is Texas gold Kisses that are sweeter than cactus