(Sung to the dying strains of an American classic, with apologies to all the members of the Western Writers of America, not to mention without sincere regard and my abiding respect for a fine Italian tradition. I just couldn’t resist!)

As we walked about in the streets of Spoleto
As we walked out in Spoleto on multiple days,
We spied an old hill town, all draped in white linen
And every other bolt of fabric a clothier would buy.

“I see by your outfit, that you are a tourist,”
These words they did say as we slowly passed by.
“Come stand here beside me and hear my sad story,
For I’m a-fishin’ for business or else I will die.”

“Oh once to the Market I used to go dashing,
Oh once to the Market I used to go gay.
First down to Rosie’s, and then to the art house,
Took a big hit to the hip, and now here I lay.”

“Oh beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly,
Someone please pay the piper as you carry me along;
Take me to the green valley, there try to restore me,
For I’m an old cowboy and I know we’ve done wrong.”