(a song, to be sung country-western style, with a jangly guitar)

I knew a girl in my hometown
    her name was Sara-Lou
A tale of seven rides she told
    each word, she swore, was true.

Sixteen, she hitched thru Tennessee;
    he drove a black sedan.
Her young pert breasts, her languid arm
    he wound his window down.

They stopped at dawn round Memphis way,
    across his hood she sprawled.
Her skin warmed 'gainst the cool night breeze
    he claimed his sweet reward.

Oh Sara-Lou, Oh Sara-Lou,
    how young and sweet you are!
But tell me of your seven rides
    to California.

In Little Rock she sought to find
    a place to lay her head
The gov'ner's car pulled next to her
    and took her to his bed

She let the man enjoy her rough
    her body for his use
and when he'd had his kinky fun
    said "hold ice to that bruise"

Oh Sara-Lou, Oh Sara-Lou...

Much later on she hiked the trail,
    the foothills of Ozark.
She walked alone the forest road,
    as it grew swiftly dark.

A woman in a pickup truck
    smiling, a smoke-ring blew
As star-crowned Luna silent watched
    Our girl learned something new.

Oh Sara-Lou, Oh Sara-Lou...

In Austin Sara found herself
    battered brown case in hand.
A minivan going her way,
    she joins a touring band.

Her blonde hair in the bassist's hand
    in hers his instrument
The drummer pounds a swift tempo
    his seed in her is spent

Oh Sara-Lou, Oh Sara-Lou...

A Convent of the Saint Felix
    they took our Sara in.
Those sisters saw to all her needs,
    though some think it's a sin.

Maria was a Sister there,
    she drove her the next day.
She took her to a Tucson house,
    then took her breath away.

Oh Sara-Lou, Oh Sara-Lou...

While hiking down a desert road,
    her tanned legs lithe and bare.
Ten kay she earned while on her back,
    or knees, she didn't care.

She licks her lips and lifts her wrist,
    the blazing sun beats down.
That ride was a lucrative one,
    though she must now skip town.

Oh Sara-Lou, Oh Sara-Lou...

At long last on a motorbike,
    she crossed the State border.
The growling beast between her legs;
    his hog growled louder.

Her seventh and her final ride
    rugged, tattoed was he.
She rode him down the boulevard,
    then rode him by the sea.

Oh Sara-Lou, Oh Sara-Lou,
    your riding days ain't done.
Now pour another glass for me,
    and then we'll have some fun...