Beware of the women who grind up men's hearts
They chew the four chambers and spit out all the parts
They paint their faces with such Byzantine arts
And leave you used up in the morning
Beware of the women who promise blue skies
There's tornado warnings in the back of their saof eyes
Like a weather forecaster, practiced in their lies
They'll leave you a disaster in the morning
Beware of the women who open like fields
You can plow all their furrows and count up all their yields,
But then John Deere comes by with his newfangled wheels
And leaves you with the children in the morning