Tekster: The Holy Modal Rounders. Random Canyon.

Take me back to Random Canyon
Where the gryphon's always riffin'
And the unicorn is horny in the spring
Where the crystal coyote calls
Over sleepy garden walls
And the wireless wombat wanders on the wings
And the wireless wombat wanders on the wings

Near the mislocated mesa
With my counterfeit contessa
Who is secretary for the local Grange
And the psychedelic sage
Puts the cattle in a rage
And the changing range is getting pretty strange
And the changing range is getting pretty strange

There I'll spend each golden year
Watching all the cattle veer
No sight I've ever seen provokes more charm
Though the dragons fly by night
They very seldom bite
But if you mess with one he'll do you harm
But if you mess with one he'll do you harm

I believe I'll never leave
And I know I'll never grieve
When I go back to the canyon that I love
Other canyons aren't as deep
Their walls inclined to seep
You can take your other canyons and go shove
You can take your other canyons and go shove

I'm a Random Canyon fan
I'll mess with any man
Who denies that Random Canyon is the best
You will find no canyon greater
Either side of the equator
Random Canyon is the glory of the West
Random Canyon is the glory of the West