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This is the road that never endsYes it goes on and on, my friends --
some people started walking it not knowing what it was,
and they’ll continue walking it forever just because it’s
destiny, it’s manifest destiny,
It’s westward ho, wagons ho, go west, young man, go off into the wild blue yonder,
off into the wild blue your land my land oops it’s actually their land, but let’s ignore them.
Ignore who? Exactly. Let’s sing of the open road.

 

Let’s sing a song of my I’ve been every on the road
not giving a damn about a greenbacka-dollar and
All I got was this stupid t-shirt.

 

I’ve been every amber waves of
Sea to shining mountain’s suburbia,
Little boxes made of ticky-left my
heart in and they all look just the
San Francisco same.

 

Song of my world’s largest ball of
willya look at that!
And all I got was this stupid big-sky state driven onward.

 

Main street, Wall Street, South Street,
Eastside Westside All around the
Bridge over troubled crowned brotherhood
and here I sit all broken-hearted
looking at rest-stop graffiti, wondering
why they can’t say

 

There’s a pink one and a green one and a
Pilgrim’s Progress through next to of
Course America God I love you
said the walrus to the carpenter,

 

And I’ve been everywhere, man,
On the road again I can’t wait to
get on the pigs really do have
wings, if I can cheer on a football team.

 

I’ve been everywhere man,
And all I got was this stupid flying pig,
This Satan Ice-skating down in hell,
This Chicago Cubs winning the world series,
So what’s left to see?

 

Purple mountain’s majesty.
And long trucks swatting me off the I’ve been
everywhere, man, and all I got was my car in a off we go, into the wild blue
see the U.S.A. in your Chevrolet, unless you support Ford,
In which case give up on buying American
and go for something more fuel-efficient
for your wallet’s sake, or for the sake of

 

Fifty-Four Forty or Tippecanoe and Tyler
Oh say can you no taxation without
Plymouth Rock, next to of course God
America I love wild turkey and smallpox blankets.

 

When Johnny comes marching home again,
we’ll give him a hearty cheer and harvest
the where-to next?

 

Manifest destiny, then manifest density, then
import cigars from Cuba on the hush-hush,
and let those caissons go rolling away from
where I might hear them, ‘cause the housing
association says so, so there.

 

Bluebird box, grain, grain elevator,
water tower, climb it and paint your school slogan,

which is sadly not SAVE FERRIS but instead --

My country ‘tis of normalcy, of tree to shining tree,
of this land is my land
and it’s not your land
I’ve got a shotgun and you don’t got one
If you don’t get off, this land will surely vote for
fifty-four forty or fight.

 

On the road, Wagons ho, get me a piece of that
mine mine mine, that Dutchman’s Mine,
There’s gold in them thar
Rushmore defacing-face.

 

If you don’t get off, paleface, I’ll blow your
Remember the Maine” right out of the
Drill ye tarriers drill,
And you can lay down your hammer and die,
Tie dye and long hair and peace sign notwithstanding.

 

Shuffle off to buffalo, and duck, ‘cause there’s a
low bridge everybody down.
I’ve been everywhere, and I keep going, and going, and going...

 

This be the verse you grave for me,
“Here she lies where she longed to
this land was made for you and me.”
And my brown brothers, but we’ve ruined their lovely cuisine, Mr.
let’s-make-everything-in-a-factory.
This doesn’t taste like Mexican food.

 

Oh well, at least the barbecue is
next to of course the Redwood Forests, Gulf-stream waters, I love
All I got was this stupid See the U.S.A. in your
Honda. Much more sensible.

 

 

Rich Corinthian In the Beginning,
When God created the creationist museum,
Bibles were made of Genuine Moroccan Leather.

 

God works in mysterious
Seas to shining seas, and
the hunter is home from the hills,
But she tarried because
The hills are alive with the sound of
Julie Andrews and the Von Trapp’s edelweiss,
And Moravian, or Shaker, Or Quaker, or
Send ‘em all here and we’ll see what they can do.

 

 

Can-do spirit, right?
Still spirited, still hopeful,
though the world rolls on into I’ve been
To the moon and back, man, and all I got was this
dusty bunch of rocks, but they’re museum pieces anyway.
(Go see. The museum is free.)

 

 

Next to of course the sun, I love
The moon, and I love the mountains,
I lovethe rolling hills,
I love the flowers,
I love the daffodils,
I love the firelight when the lights are low.

 

There’s a wideness in God’s mercy,
For all things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
And man prefers a mall.

 

Fifty-four forty or Buy American, it’s cheap.
Wal-Mart, always low prices, because our products are
mostly cheap plastic, from wall to shining wall, My country `tis of
Sweet mountain’s travesty, cause they’ve all been dug up and dug out,
but from the dugout of America’s former national pastime I can’t see that,
so I just watch the game and then hit a homer in the bottom of the ninth with two outs bases loaded down by
two points to win the championship game against the cross-town rival, and
All I got was this stupid Lombardi Trophy. Go Cubs! Beat Army!

 

Forty-four forty or
See the U.S.A. in your
Stretch Hummer, Good God that Pollutapotamus.

 

That what-were-they-thinking-mobile,
thank you Click and Clack for fixing my car,
Thank you endless road for remembering Dwight D. Eisenhower and his 1919 road trip,
the one with the million breakdowns
and they had to cut through the fences that were strung right across the
Sea to shining silicon computer chip, Shining iPod to shining iPad,
shining bag of coins to look at what this thing can do,
can-do spirit, we’re a great race of engineers and

 

world’s largest ball of processed Americana,
world’s largest collection of tornadoes,
world’s largest amount of Supersize me wrapped in individual slices.
(You can tell a country by its cheese.)

 

Tippecanoe and Mr. W.H. Harrison too,
who in the battle proved himself a tough man,
but later proved himself an idiot. His strength sure wasn’t super sized,
but his cold sure was.

 

Teddy Roosevelt was supersized --
After navigating the river called the River of Doubt,
they re-named it the river of UNQUESTIONABLE CERTAINTY!
It takes a lot to kill a Bull Moose.

 

It takes a lot to go off into the wild blue yonder, off into
what may be eternity. It took a lot to reach the other coast,
although not much to make up a bunch of stories about
all them Injuns circling the wagons. Nor much to ignore
the good soil you’re rolling over.

 

Drive through that tree in California with the tunnel in it,
and wonder how many roads a man can
drive down before he decides to
stop and smell the flowers.

 

How many seas can a white dove sail before she
tires and joins all the other pigeons in the city?
How many times will the cannonballs fly before
the housing association sends the caissons rolling
away from my poor eardrums?

 

For God and property, For God and
My country `tis of
a Scout is
trustworthy,
loyal,
helpful,
friendly,
courteous,
kind, obedient,
cheerful thrifty brave
clean reverent and straight
-- oops, I mean morally straight.

 

 

Whatever that means, next to of course e.e. cummings, Scouting, I
Leave no trace, Save for the bluebird of happiness,
or in some cases the chicken of depression,
as read by Gary Larson.

 

We didn’t actually invent the comic form, but we perfected it,
made it the comic strip,
made it our own.
Larson didn’t invent the single-panel gag,
but he made it a gas,
and therefore his own.

 

Up on the rooftop, Reindeer pause and wonder
what Santa meant when he said “Venison.”

 

Or did he say that? Rudolph heard him say,
“make me money by having Gene Autrey sing
a really silly song about
the true meaning of
the toy that saved Christmas.”

 

from Christmas tree to shining
Merry Christmahannukwansaakas,
ho-ho-ho, yo-ho-ho and a bottle of
amusement park ride, fifteen men on the dead man’s
video-recorded last will and testament,
being of sound mind and sound body, I bequeath to my son a
stupid t-shirt, and to my daughter,
the open road and another stupid t-shirt, and a bottle of rum --

 

Actually, it’s Welch’s Grape Juice,
because I’m a Methodist.

 

I’m also a Yankee Doodle Dandy, Do or Die,
But since I’ve died I use this last will and testament to declare myself
A macaroni as thick as hasty pudding.
At the funeral, going by the casket, look for the feather in
my hat it has three corners.

 

If you’re a Yankee Doodle Dandy,
Do you know the way to San Jose?
How High the moon?
Hey buddy, can you spare a
Brother where art thou,
fifteen miles on the Erie Canal?

 

Can you paint with all the colors of the
call now for your genuine imitation
rich Corinthian leather?

 

Can you sing with all the voices of the Mormon tabernacle Choir?
(Offer void in Nebraska.)

 

Have you ever heard the wolf cry
to the rancher who thinks prairie dogs
Are pestilential, and who says
they burst when you shoot them?
Will Rogers has finally met men he didn’t like.

 

Will Rogers rode ahead
and left the herd behind him long, long ago,
in a range far, far, away, under an orange-colored sky,
Into the sunset.
Who was that masked comedian, anyway?
Well, he had a silver tongue instead of silver bullets.
And no sidekick, except the love of the country riding with him.

 

I’ve been everywhere and all I got
was this lovely never met a man I didn’t like.
Wouldn’t it be lovely?
Wouldn’t it be nice, if we were older,
and we didn’t have to wish for a
home where the buffalo roam?

 

Let’s go fly a kite and wonder if the star-signs
look uncrossed for the two young lovers
on the tandem bicycle.

 

Daisy, Daisy,
Give me your answer,
‘cause we're on a tandem bicycle going
everywhere, milady, and I’d like more out of this trip
than a stupid t-shirt.

 

Spring, and a young
woman’s fancy turns to thoughts of love,
and gifts of watermelon pickle received from a friend called
Books nobody's heard of,
and virgin wool from Wisconsin,
no silly Polo-players for me.

 

Kurt Cobain would approve, right? Wrong?
When he was my age, he had to walk five miles
to get a wool shirt, uphill, both ways,
in a Seattle rainstorm.

 

Can you paint with all the colors of Grunge rock?
Have you ever heard Soundgarden cry to the black-hole sun?
Have you ever heard
Muzak butcher the songs of both artists, along with every tune you used to love?
I’m onna highway to hell,
Stairway to heaven, and it didn’t cost a dime,
But can you spare a dime anyway?

 

Brother, can you spare a
My country `tis of
Amber waves of
e.e. cummings? From Sea to Shining Sea and I still
Can’t figure out who killed the Kennedys,
Even though it was you and me and men of wealth and taste.

 

Did he stumble into a trap for Troubadors?
(Kurt Cobain did.)
Did Mordred ride forth from Camelot to slay him?
Is he in Avalon now?
“Here lies Kennedy, the once and future president.”
(Here lies Cobain, the once and future musician.)

 

 

But our real “King In the Mountain
who sleeps, and will wake to save us all, is
actually an entertainer:
Disney, supposedly cryogenically frozen and placed under Space Mountain.
(So why couldn’t it have been Cobain, then?)

 

 

Who Killed the Kennedys?
It was the enemy, and he is us.

 

We laid traps for troubadors --
But let’s forgive and forget and
go fly a kite,br> up to the highest Julie Andrews.

 

In Fourteen Hundred and Ninety-Two,
Columbus sailed in to a Troubador-trap and
laid his own traps, and boy,
were the natives amber-waves-of-grained out the wazoo.

 

But let’s go fly an eat-at-joe’s sign.
Let’s fly a hot-air balloon and look at all the movie credits floating by,
because after all, these people have families.
I’ve been everywhere,
Moving right along, we have a life on the highway,
and your way is my way,
but don’t trust my navigation because
We just left Rhode Island.

 

We did WHAT?
Just forget it.
Leave your old kit-bag in San Francisco and
Fly a kite on the long way to Tiperrary,
but watch out for the
kite-eating trees.

 

And look for the signs pointing to the world’s largest ball of
I’ve been everywhere and all I got was this stupid roadside attraction.

 

Where do we go now, sweet child of mine?
This ends my last will and testament.
One word of advice:

 

Be kind to your web-footed friends,
For a duck may be somebody’s mother.
She lives all alone in the swamp,
where it is always cold and damp.
You may think that this is the end --
well it is.

 

Where do we go now, sweet child of mine?
On to the next adventure.
Another day, another segue! This is the road that doesn’t end...

 

 

(I have discovered truly marvelous explanation of this poem, which this margin is too narrow to contain. In the meantime, always be sure to read the fine print.)

 

(Special thanks to Bruce Springsteen; Shari Lewis; Norman Martin; Horace Greely; Roald Dahl, Ken Hughes,  and Ian Fleming; Woody Guthrie; Walt Whitman; Johnny Cash; Hoyt Wayne Axton; Katherine lee Bates; e.e. cummings; Malvina Reynolds; Tony Bennet; James W. Blake; Simon and Garfunkel; Lewis Caroll; Willie Nelson; Leo Corday and Leon Carr; Brigadier General Edmund L. Gruber; John Hughes; Evan and Gregg Spiridellis; John C. Hebb; Al Dubin and Harry Warrin; D.D.B Chicago Advertising; Robert Louis Stevenson; Ben Sargent; Bozell by way of Ricardo Montalban; Rodgers and Hammerstein; Frederick William Faber; William Henry Monk;  Tom and Ray Magliozzi; Doug Marlette; Morgan Spurlock; John Hodgman, Bob Dylan, Gary Larson, Gene Autrey, Burt Bacharach and Hal David; Nancy Hamilton and Morgan Lewis; Yip Harburg; Joel and Ethan Coen; Milton DeLugg and Willie Stein; The Beach Boys; Brewster M. Higley; Disney by way of Alan Menken and Steven Schwartz; Enya; Henry Dacre; Alfred Lord Tennyson; John Tobias; Helen Hill and Agnes Perkins; Soundgarden; Muzak Holdings Corporation (No, I take that back -- fuck you, Muzak); Led Zepplin; the Rolling Stones; Walt Kelly; Disney by way of Robert B. Sherman; Guns ‘n Roses; Jim Henson; Charles Schulz; Berke Breathed – and Fermat, for his magnificent boast. Each sold separately batteries not included see supply store for details limited while supplies last offer void where prohibited by law and void in Nebraska.(Sorry, Nebraska.) Call now!

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