U S A … U S A … U S A …

I want to ride to the ridge where the West commencesAnd gaze at the moon till I lose my sensesAnd I can't look at hobbles and I can't stand fences—Cole Porter & Robert Fletcher, 1934I wade through water and I wade through mudEvery time I calm down it’s a bucket o’ blood—Dixie chain gang field holler…gone ballistic, not home but bloodon the range…—Wanda Coleman, American Sonnet