VEGAS, BABY

with a shaka to Kipling

By the old Gold Coast casino

Slouching southward to the Strip,

In the land of Wayne and Deano

And the cash-out minichip,

 

The Mandalay is waiting,

With its artificial wave,

Where the surf is marinating,

And the cherries won't behave

 

For the palms are in the concrete, 

And the Muzak's in the trees,

And the shore is right on main street

With the donuts on the breeze—

 

But Frankie's in his heaven

On the Angel Park fairway,

Where he rolls a perfect seven

And the bogeys ricochet.

 

At the MGM they say

That the keno lounges pay,

And the plums come up like sunrise

At the Wolfgang Puck Café.

 

At Bally's, Sam's, and Harrah's,

Andrew Dice is calling,

And a man can go to Paris

To see Diana Krall'ing;

 

As the lazy streams meander

Through the sun-drenched quarter slots

And the valet parkers pander

To the bingo babes' jackpots,

 

The Sunrise Suites are setting

As the Stardust fires rise,

And celebrities are betting

With Flamingo-colored dies,

 

And the Sands are really Caesar's,

The volcano is a prop, 

And the waterfalls are teasers

By the Genuine Surf Shop;

 

Oh behave the Mandalay way

In the water feature's spray,

There the starlets sprout like palm trees

In the Mandalay's fake Bay.

 

On to be where Lance and Cher play

And the Boy-lesque dancers sway,

While the blanks pop up like golf trees

Out on Debbie Reynolds Way:

 

It's the road to Mandalay, hey, 

Where the surfing shoppers play,

And the ghosts come up like thunder

In the Slots-A-Fun foyer.

 

December 8th and 17th, 2001