I was cruising along Route 66
With the radio blaring FM 106
When I found my Mercedeze Benz
Trailing behind the rear ends
Of a pair of leatherclad chicks

They were on their motorbikes
Tearing up the turnpikes
As if the Devil was hot on their tails
Unbeknownst to little ole me, girl from the big city
Were the legendary tales

Of this duo known as the Dixie Dykes

Now, on any other given day
I'd never stray far from the highway
But my throat was parched with a thirst
So I found a tavern, the very first
That was aptly named the Hideaway

Out in the middle of Nowheresville
With a few hours to kill
Said to myself, "Oh, what the hell"
I rested my feet for a spell
And between shots and beers, had my fill

Later, they strolled in
The duo of Jane and Marylin
Two stunning gals if there ever was
Every man stared as every man does
While the couple ordered whiskey and gin

With arms around each other
They ventured into the billiard room
And oh, brother!
Did the tavern come alive with a buzz
Of hushed snide remarks about licking carpet fuzz
From one man to the other

It wasn't long before
A burly man poked his nose through the door
To catch a glimpse of the goings on within
His face grew wide with a shit eating grin
Until he was knocked back on the floor

Those gals were in the midst of a tryst
When his chin met Marylin's fist
Sprawling him unconscious with a look of calm
She emerged, cracking knuckles in her palm
And the male population was certainly pissed

The quiet was disrupted
As the quaint tavern erupted
Bottles and bodies flying everywhere
Jane half dressed in her underwear
Didn't bother to keep her brassiere adjusted

She whacked a few heads with a pool stick
And if that didn't quite do the trick
Like a spinning coin
To the face or the groin
Was Jane's fabulous roundhouse kick

The atmosphere quickly did turn
Into Hollywood western
And I was feeling quite out of place
Until a giant trucker with a scarred face
Tried to give Jane's cheek a cigar burn

What caused me to grab my own chair
And weild it about through the air
Perhaps it was the beers, possibly the shots
Not sure how many, I know there were lots
Enough to swing without a hesitation or a care

I thought I had killed him dead
When it struck the trucker's head
Sending him tumbling against the bar
Instincts told me to make a run for the car
But I helped Jane to her feet instead

Heaving chest to heaving chest
I felt a bit strange, almost possessed
Then she suddenly embraced me and we kissed
I didn't even try to resist
Her stray fingers wandering up my breast

Leaving behind the broken glass
Victorious field of kicked ass
The biker chics each gunned a throttle
A hand around Jane's waist, my other clutching a bottle
We found ourselves a secluded mountain pass

They were tearing up the turnpikes
The Devil eating dust from their bikes
Hot as ever on their tails
For many years to come, you could hear from some
The legendary tales

Of the trio known as the Dixie Dykes