She be the chick
Who stomped on my heart
And served it up like a fillet
Cooked me in the fryer,
Threw me in the fire
Then she sang the song La Grange.
Unrestray-ay-yained.

“Pass me the blender,”
Says she so tender.
“And pass that turpentine.”
She would blend it up
With some greenish stuff
Then she drinks up and sighs,
“Satisfie-aye-yied!”

There goes the Rutabaga Rose out of Salt Lick
There goes the Rutabaga Rose out of Salt Lick, my chick through and through
My belle,
A fight chick
A bright chick
The right chick
I say she’s my tease and I’m her toy,
She kinda owns me.

Her temp’rament
We’ll say is bizarre
Dual sides she will display
Beating bikers up, see her playin’ tough
Cool it down with lemonade
She’s a day-ay-yame.

See her so hip
She flows a la carte
Stockings both pink and crocheted
Boots with pretty flowers
Smells of curry powder
Jacket with her web domain
‘Not_Munday-ay-yane.'

I love that Rutabaga Rose out of Salt Lick
I love that Rutabaga Rose out of Salt Lick, my chick through and through
My belle
A snide chick
A dyed chick
A wide chick
I say she’s the freak and I’m her boy
She kinda owns me.

And don’t ya know that she’s the pretty girl in tow-ohh-woun
With all her teeth you know she grins and then I’ll me-yow-ow.

I love my Rutabaga Rose out of Salt Lick
I love my Rutabaga Rose out of Salt Lick
I love my Rutabaga Rose out of Salt Lick
I love my Rutabaga Rose out of Salt Lick, my chick through and through