| Say if you’re South of Oklahoma, east of New Mexico
|
| West of Louisiana, where Papa Charles always go
|
| We gotta a little place called Texas
|
| Where the women grow on trees
|
| There right there for the pickin' good buddy
|
| Just as easy as a man could please
|
| Run take a hold
|
| You’re gonna get young 'fore ya get old
|
| Those Texas ladies are Texas gold
|
| Kisses that are sweeter than cactus
|
| Take no practice to love yeah
|
| Now there east of Amarillo, a little south of old Dime Box
|
| You can find a Cinderella
|
| Or a genuine Goldilocks
|
| And if ya don’t like no love attachments
|
| If your taste in women gets strange
|
| You could probably find some things to live on
|
| Down in old La Grange
|
| You better run tell the world
|
| You gotta have a Lone Star girl
|
| With her cast iron curls
|
| Her aluminum dimples
|
| Cause she’s so simple to love
|
| Now she’s probably in Dallas, maybe down in old Cowtown
|
| I’ve heard em tell Texas women
|
| Beat the others lyin' down
|
| I just thought I might tell you
|
| In case you were unaware
|
| 'Bout those northeast Texas women |
| With their cotton candy hair
|
| You run dig a hole
|
| You gonna get young before you get old
|
| Now Texas women are Texas gold
|
| Ahh there sweeter than cactus
|
| Easy to love, yeah, easy to love
|
| Easy to love, mmmmm
|
| You run tell the world
|
| How you’ll get Lone star girls
|
| With their cast iron curls
|
| She’s sweeter than cactus
|
| And easy to love… |