Pondering, in the light of the American election, the subtext of that Country and Western classic, El Paso.
The song is a paeon of (or is that to? - Hnaef, please check) toxic masculinity. The singer / narrator (originally Marty Robbins) falls in love with a Mexican girl. We are not told whether the love is returned - maybe not, as in short order the wicked Faleena is sharing drinks with a random wild young cowboy. The narrator guns the guy down and then he realises he has to run for it.
While lurking in New Mexico he realises he can't live with her, can't live without her. Turns his (stolen) horse round, goes back, is shot and dies in Faleena's arms. He clearly had no right to Faleena. She gave no evidence - until he died in her arms - of having any interest in him. Apparently she was more interested in twirling. A waste of two young lives, and guilt on the head of someone whose wickedness appears to have manifested in having an innocent drink. And twirling.
In Trump's America, of course, things would be different. Faleena would be the other side of a giant wall - presumably working in Rosie's now Mexican-based cantina, to earn enough money to pay for the bricks her brother is being forced to lay along the route of the Rio Grande. Marty Robbins would be out earning an honest crust instead of pestering Mexican maidens who aren't actually all that interested, and think that wild young cowboys are more interesting than whingeing, short-tempered C&W singers.
You can't say Trump won't make some things better.