She turned her painted blue eyes toward the assistant and said something in French before she left.

He was wearing a little bag of “Mojo” around his neck.

(The golden goose has died, my prince turned into a frog, the Kingdom is lost, everyone has turned into stone and I am locked in the tower)

{Summertime she speaks of winter, she eats ham, but speaks of beef, got a good man but, flirts with another. She might as well go to hell, cause she ain't gonna be happy in heaven either!}

Ain’t nothing too serious. Even death is a joke on the old devil, if we are living for the Lord.

No, I will not join your Civil War reenactment troupe.