The Yellow Rose of Hades

It was the late, great, Lone Star State,
Where loyalties to plantations were sworn
And thusly only in rebellions of hate
Was the Texan inconsequentially born,
For greatness is a thing of the north
Where rivers are authentically Grande
And product distribution sallies forth
With cooler Yankee heads in command
Of freedom stars, which never need bars,
For any amendment lacking slave,
Who sees only despair in single stars
And relief, only in a southern grave,
Covered some day by a prickly pear
Trying to pierce oppression's rank air.