This Could Be Texas

It's the year of the ox.

Dress me up and try to guess my weight.

800 people gathered at a fair

In the machine age.

That's the wisdom of the crowds,

The more the merrier.

Ignore the farmer and his Pitchfork;

Walk through the heather.

I put it into verse,

Put it in an envelope,

I put it in a postbox,

Someone puts it in your house.

And that house is in a town,

That town ain't far from here

But it doesn't feel very near.

And that town is in a state

And that state is in a country

And that country is in a bad state —

There's a familiar atmosphere about the place.

And in the end they might thank me

With a garden in my name

'Cause I walked through the heather.

And in the end they might even thank me

With a garden in my name

'Cause I walked through the heather.