Sarah loves to sing.
  She'll never miss a chance
To sing for other people.
  They can listen, leave or dance.

Many people leave
  Even though they truly love
The sound of her sweet voice
  Sent from heaven up above.

She only sings sad country songs.
  Her friends will often wonder
If she got her taste in music
  When the Lord made his first blunder.

Willie loves the country songs
  She sings with such great feeling.
Her friends think he deserves the taste
  He got when God was dealing.

He deserves his love of country
  Coz his taste in clothes is bad.
People should be punished
  For being so poorly clad.

They think that he deserves his taste
  In clothes because he smells.
He's ignorant of deodorant,
  Of shampoos and shower gels.

And he deserves his smell because
  He once said to a poodle,
"God made blueprints for Great Danes
  But you were just a doodle."

And the dog had better taste in clothes
  And far superior hair.
He told them that at least he's not
  Gone grey like Richard Gere.

Implying that he's better
  Than the man they'd like to wed.
For that he now deserves
  An anvil falling on his head.

Sarah writes her own songs,
  Which she'll happily perform.
A set comprising mainly
  Of her own songs is the norm.

And other people's songs,
  She sings a few of those,
But it seems to her a lot like
  Wearing other people's clothes.

She agrees, on principle,
  There's nothing wrong with that.
It all depends on the person
  Underneath the cowboy hat.

She hates the songs of singers
  Who look as if they sweat.
She can't sing songs that feel as if
  The clothes she wears are wet.

Willie loves her look.
  He's the fan in her fanclub.
He wears his cowboy hat
  When she sings in Cleary's pub.

He'd love to sing himself,
  But he doesn't have the voice.
He'd give a leg to get it,
  If God gave him the choice.

He'd be a tall, one-legged
  Country singer on the stage.
He'd travel 'round the world
  And leave behind his weekly wage.

The cowboy hat he wears
  Would be like an extra limb.
Or it could be a lamp shade
  To keep his head-light dim.

The shade would stop the moths
  From flying 'round his head.
Sarah's friends say it's a dump
  Where headlice find their bed,

And the 'moths' are really flies;
  It's the smell and not the light
That draws them to his presence.
  It's certainly not the sight.

He'll never be a singer.
  He'll keep both legs and knees.
So he writes a song instead.
  It comes to him with ease.

It opens with this line:
  'D  I  V  O  R  C  E.
I'm free at last now that I've
  Overcome illiteracy'.

Sarah loves the song
  And she loves him as a friend,
But in her mind she sees
  A capital E to start an 'End'.

Singing it would feel as if
  She's wearing Willie's clothes.
The image is as welcome
  As the company of crows.

Her face turns slightly pale
  When she tries to sing the song.
She always gets the feeling
  That she'll faint before too long.

So she takes him to the clothes shops.
  He needs to dress to kill,
And not as if he killed the thing
  That's cooking in his grill.

When Sarah's friends see Willie
  Looking very sharp and new,
From head to toe in black,
  They all think, "Richard who?"

He tips his new black cowboy hat,
  And country music seems
Like the perfect summer soundtrack
  To accompany their dreams.

Sarah loves to sing his song,
  And Willie loves to hear her.
Her friends love him. The smell is gone,
  So they can get much nearer.