The stage coach has left Dodge.

 
As black as the ace of spades,
as white as a line of charlie,
he has gone to the halls of Kali,
dancing with the merry maids.
 
I'm just going out for some Phun,
I may be some time,
drinking the fine summer wine,
that runny, warm butter on a celebration bun.
 
As deviant as Detroit,
as true as the larch in spring,
you gave the dream some meaning
and made the road to sing.
 
So put on the hat of the fool,
come dance round the spring maypole
and break the golden rule,
the tide has come in in Worthing
and Bilbo has cast away the ring.
 
A free pint in all the bars,
for all the players of Mars,
an Eagle has come home
a furlough of jolly jack tars.

 
~