This song is for all the boys back in St. Louis.  You realize I was run out of St. Louis. Yeah, too much wine, women, and song…and something about an unpaid hotel bill.  Oh well…fuck 'em.  So how about a song for a girl back in Albuquerque.  Yep…she was my true love…that is until she ran off with Stan, my bass player.  I heard they went to Denver.  Fuck Denver.  How about a song dedicated to my old friend Banjo Bob in Birmingham.  You know Banjo Bob was my manager for a while.  Took 80 percent of everything I made…a real sweetheart.  They don't make 'em like Banjo Bob anymore.  So here's to my fans across the big pond in England.  Those limey bastards.  They treat my concerts like they're some kind of fucking soccer match…throwing bottles and shit.  A man can get hurt by those hooligans.  Got a scar on my forehead to prove it.  Fuck 'em. So all you cocksuckers of Carbondale…unite!  This song is for you.  (starts singing)

Keep your chin up
And your feet on the ground
Smile real big as you walk through the town
And you got nothing to lose as you make your rounds
So don't let the bastards grind you down

Everyone sing…and don't forget to tip your waitress.