Reno man, I love you Reno. 
Meet me in 1926.
Your life ends on the Lincoln, 
When I leave for a bigger fix. 

Your mama touched my knee, 
With her leathery fruit bar hands, 
Asking if I’d build her a platoon 
And inherit your father’s land. 

She made me a coat of rags, 
Sewed with New Testament thread, 
I’ve worn it proudly all my life, 
I’ll wear it til I’m dead. 

Reno man, I love you so
But that land of yours is so morose 
The kind of bad as good as the best, 
Sandy-loam, rocks and the oppressed. 

The Columbia Gorge cattle ranch, 
I’ll buy it, after you
I will cover it in salt and Reno things 
And my last fifty pair of loons. 

Like your friends, we’ll marry, divorce,
And snap some kisses on Fulton Alley, 
Then I’ll shake Reno from my feet, 
And walk alone through Death Valley. 

Goodbye, goodbye my Reno comedy. 
I think I’d rather die than join your divorce colony.