Mendacious mendicants of Mendocino,
They partied hard, men all, until they failed
To do without their women, then they left.
Turned right, and marched into the hinterlands,
A mess of diphthongs, if I ever saw one.
The women hadn't noticed they were gone
And didn't feign that it was otherwise.
They'd all been cracking goobers, drinking tea—
Tea was what they called it— telling whoppers,
"Love makes the world go bonkers"— crap like that.
The men claimed they'd been powered by the Lord,
If offered sex, to cleanse the blackened heart.
No one believed them. No one even smiled.
Their hearts beat on beneath the soot and ash,
And Mendocino never noticed nothing.
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