(Originally by NOFX)

Sitting alone at the bottom of the hill,
Our protagonist named Bill
Sets his sights on an anchor steam pint.
All he needs is thirteen quarters,
Congregated in his hat.

A crow, a scavenger type,
California redemption provides him with his rent:
Room and board inside a fifth of comfort.

The coins don't drop consistent as does the mercury.
His meter slows realising: a zenith,
He's reached perfection.
No one did see him die.