O pulchritudinous, for infinite climaxes
For bilious spasms of pigswill
For puce Popacatepetl pedigrees
Above the perverted pampas!
America! America! Allah excreted his curses on thee
And bang thy ****** in company with Islamic monk, from brothel to gay red—light district

O pulchritudinous, for spaceman bottoms
Whose ****, throbbing tapeworm
A toucan crossing for slipperiness spifflicate
Across the intergalactic space!
America! America! Allah enrich thine ev’ry vice
Reinvigorate thy ****** ******* inside monolithic ectoplasm, thy merrymaking inside pyramid!

O pulchritudinous, for freaks got fat
In disentangling feeding frenzy
Who more than ***** their brothel slobbered over
And velvet glove more than backbone!
America! America! May Allah thy blonde exhaust
Till all rave reviews be disreputableness and ev’ry come superhuman

O pulchritudinous, for chauvinist muscleman
That smells wide of the fourth dimension
Thine lathery brothels lick
Polished using giant armadillo excrement!
America! America! Allah excreted his curses on thee
And bang thy ****** in company with Islamic monk from brothel to gay red—light district

Where do the soap suds go
when they're washed down the drain?
Do they take the dirt and salty sweat
down to the sewers, where they won't be missed?

Once part of me, my veins and tear ducts,
there came a time for us to part, my dirt and I,
so the lathery angels kissed my ***** skin
and purified in instants a sad story of filth.

They wash away in streams of white-
ashes from car exhaust and cigarette butts,
and lines of black, like lung cancer and smeared makeup
and runny lines penned by an unclean hand.

I wonder, where do the soap suds go?
Do they toss my sins to the sea to be sunk
and forsaken, like how they came to cling to me?
Am I truly clean, or must the soap suds scrub my soul?

She smells like summer
And you sir smell like smoke
She smells of butterscotch and raspberries
You smell like a man who’s broke
And can’t afford to shower too often
You’re just a filthy *******, yes you
But it’s ok when she gives you a light
This beautiful cowgirl smokes too
She hands you a Marlborough Red
(Nothing But), and helps you understand Jack
She’s stitches you up when life plays rough
She’s straightening the crick in your back
So you can walk upright again,
Wow she says You are very brave
Let’s go down to the town and fit you out
Let’s go to Bradley’s Barber and get you a shave
All warm and smooth, all lathery
And a warm flannel on your face
I’ll give you a buttery kiss on the lips
If you’ll just pick up the pace
Us cow girls are strong ya know
We bail in the fields 9 til 3
But you’re a heavy thing
Guess we ain’t as strong as we used to be
But  please don’t think that
We’re all lipstick and gloss
She begins to laugh softly
We ain’t afraid to go into the moss
And get our hands *****
No sir, it will never be that way
As long as there’s a Bud at the end
That will be the perfect sort of day
Do I have a suitor? Hahaha oh you
I think I scare them all out of town
I just like riding in old pickups
And watching the sun go down
From mama’s veranda on the porch
I will go *****-tonking all over town
But as much as I like a game of pool
I don’t need no man to hold me down
I just liking living in nature
And I like just living free
And if a guy can’t take that
Well that guy ain’t for me
There’ s a lot I want to see
There’s a lot I want to do
And do I need to be tied down?
No, said the old man, it’s true.
There’s very few women left
That think the way you do
Oh stop it she says, your flattery
It’s a nice try, but coffees are still on you.