Rain fell backwards
in clouded sun inlands
frosty winds whistle Dixie
flaccid ***** of cotton monies
cat calls in the heat of the night
bamboo canes in the straight tracks
in drips fears are real on winters night
finding the sad way home on hock and gin
the beast have been and ably widened the road
where trunks call instill dreads in gaps and arches
top-loader weave in rhyming dispatches and silk roads
the sons of Cain are heirs to the tongue and busted flush
such is the so raging minds that makes the limps go limping
so whistle me Dixie bring in bullwhips for the lazy men's game
gonna lock up the fillies and padlock the minds for dreads of stallions