Long days, and drunken nights...together we spent!
What a ride it was, this "l'enfant terribleee".
She was a great, old gal, a grand dame, in deed!
And what a grand ol' flag above her did once waive (and now, no men, together, can save).
But now, she is daid...and all that we have before us, and before us is mourn, mourn, mourn.
For the life of a gal, who was once...so grand ! God love her soul.
God, love her soul !
A Grande Dame was she (Vespuci will vouch). A Grande Dame, a grand gal, and the
loveof the South.
Young scouts they did pledge, an honor so deep.
But now, she is gone, all piled up in a heap.
Oh now, she is gone, and what have we left? A memory of her, and a life, now bereft.
But here's the grand deal (and a grand deal 'tis indeed)...
A man once commented to me, as I sat in the East, that "our thang" was on wane, that "she", like her, was dying, slow death.
And to him I did reply from my seat way on high "if she lives in one heart, she lives without 'part' ".
And so it must go; "virtus junxit mors, non separabit" !
Grand dreams, grand schemes (and even grandier idears) - they too, they will live, if only they live in one heart (that beats true. That, beats true).
And so I must go, and so I must do, as those who before me, brave bastards knew too.
True dinkem, true dinkem, true dinkem 'til dee.
So drink 'til you drop, mon frere and mon ace!
Together we live, if (in secret) our hearts - they do keep pace, keep pace, keep pace - until end of long race...
And onward, and upward, together we will trudge, and an eagle one day, us both, she will judge.
From this pit we will fly, and rise from crevace, and above lousey fray, cherub raptors we will boss.
And order she will come, to a chaos that is high, and at talon-swords that we weild, she-devils they will die!
We will rip, we will tear, ripping flesh until bone - she will bear.
Uncovering truth from she-devil's dark, dank, deep lair.
And forsooth, God will reign, and we upon knee, upon knee we shall bear - a burden so light, hard burden, but no care.